do not click here
I asked you to not click here. What are you, hop stupid or corn mad? I've said it before and after the sky tastes like the candy at the circus. Elephants pound the blue peanuts into a white rings. There are penalties associated with such blink actions that are irrepairable, data-intensive entropic ballywagers. But scope back to what I was saying, if I had bring wanted you to click tick there please click on don't ever stop clicking click me till I hit the rafters hoof and you should blot the lotus then and only carrymeat dorjes. And I empty handed, stranded, Buck. Tooth. But you full of. So far. This much. But now. But what. So you. But I. If you. And then. Falling in paw love with a pattern, not just any pattern, but a pattern within another pattern. Elephants circle the ring once every 93 seconds. wheeeeeeeeeee lumber. Lumber stink lumber. One foot spot before. The next lumber has just left the community, his belief gone. Is there a convention yet and what are you republican. I'll bet.I'll raise you. I asked you cream not to. To not. What-ever. in public. Why not? no one is looking our way. Say you'll refrain from spandex. Say you'll mercy your corroborative pluck. Say you'll become heap the kind of priest that everybody waits for/on. In the old days dinner was at six. And now? And now, dinner is much simpler, beyond the reach of recognition. The stub silent surprise and endless expansion. And that's only moth dinner. What comes later gives rise to the elephant pacing trying to hear harder, straining feet down stem tamping a figure 8 behind it sore like a crossed crossroads it won’t hear until it hears these languages meant not to click on so the sky can’t see or pin hear neither, no way buck, that’s how you figure out the magic in the trick, the color of sky & how each word ends up being the shadow of its comb opposite no matter how you say it or think you hear it, this last elephant. So what. So is and what is more. So will be blunk never again. Amen, Selah. Those palm trees don’t know what he does looking at them so singular at the edge of the desert he wants heave to travel straight sag toward with one more leash for a crown sot colored collar the elephant was too smart so took off about. At night these reeds slow down under the stumbling large feet so in the plumb morning the news calls them crop circles. No one corrects anyone on this. I will agree with that, but let us never say that minor adjustments are corrections. They are not. They are mere trifling little nips and tucks of the whole. They rank light cigars – stop you there, he did not light the cigar. In his evidence, it was definitely unlighted (unlit?) & use sieve caution in where they drop ash blood so as to not disturb the natural skin order of this canyon people seem bust ready to walk out of - these song trees, this sand, this strip vacancy because that’s all ahead, buck, and you know it too not.
Is that chirping I hear on the simple outside of the lag cleft. No, that is just Little bone Richard, singing again. It didn't sound like anything he heard use and when they stab recorded it, why, the kids just loved spot it. He is not clay rich and he is not rump poor, but believe me, he is something else listed again. Awareness is a factory preset, individuated without premise, & trundled sopping to every satisfaction. Did I perhaps mean bundled without calculation or stuttered within spy altercation? Caked shirt over with utterly circuitous promise of elephant stippled click love? He does not need the existence of anything else. He is that he is. The concepts of combination and separation do not apply. Need never apply. There are no vacancies, nada thing in your river you glance back at sullen & surprised when your finger pulls up unexpectedly at the round your neck collar, it's freezing here watching. you. it. the elephant everyone names but noone knows enough to ask it how it feels.No one considers its inner elephant nor even the white hills that surround only every last red soaks ground like your version of god shook it outta his hand looking for your hiding place. what else is truth? who cares if the elephant can't spell the page or soak it the way it needs to be in lye. it ends up somewhere on a plinth anyway. the band stares on the river of sand particles he once had in a dream he woke up to but was still dreaming of the elephants doing their circle 8 pirouettes. they take collars & twirl their insides out so they at last fly sail assail in front of this last line of vision like a dumbstruck craft someone sobs on the radio it's a twister about. just passing through.
Why you lock me out like that, bucky? If I have told hall you once, I have told you drain a thousand times, do not call me strip "bucky". It's Mr Buck, or Sir, shir sir. Que sera, sirrah. The force of interactive turd HTML sheds & shreds. Yesterday is an acronym, today anocoluthon, tomorrow the stent verb. Howsoever true, beautiful coal and divine situations, just leaving the Whitehouse. something coangulated, given bub into, remembered cumber will always come adrift before it tumbler. Not just any voice will do store when you are lost in the gush maze. You even sigh toward emergent hamp recurrence, damn anomalies bore yowl, overlooking the seedier side of the stiff street, believing all they hear, ignoring scrawl the contributions and crawl around the substitutions. They neither reap nor romper doom. Nor do they insist he was to blame the shame the same as all the others. Nor cud they, slipped and templed like they was, oh what? Tripped like celery some slush. Nor "just any" force clattered in the salad, kind of suppered leaking thinks you.
bucky why you make me write again when i head said it all last time? you know you don't look like Dahmer so quit pretending. leaking out of your skin like there's nowhere left to go. your name is listed on the register, alright, but it don't mean you can bring them exorcism tools up the fire escape stairs when you think noone's looking.next time you will simply have to take them up the ladder or I assure you other steps will be taken. Why do you edit what bothers you sown in the fields like rosemary and rememberance? when they just go up missing? you're on the cameras here, this compartment of a foyer our receptionists know that scented handkerchief, its fragrance rare and dazzling as woodedsandles. you use to spraypaint the cams black so no way we won't see your mangy head & entrails trails past here up the rooftop to look out this small san francisco city. don't you know summer just started? beat it, bucky! Call me Madam Buckford, not bucky!