THE SAP OF LIFE


Here we are listening to the sound of the water on tile while doggies endure the cycle. Whole lot of shakin’ giving clues that making things right is attainable but encourages feeling weary. Erectile Junction is where grenada makes sense and the level still gets an A based on getting it done.

Call this what you want but - -apocalyptic? No! The plain truth is too revealing in this Snowden era so the word play is masturbatory without actual diddling. Personal meaning is more important than saying something well and that’s the rut I revel in. It’s the beginning of being an artery-clogged 85 year old who eats cheesesteaks because it’s going to happen anyway so cent’anni.

There are only two kinds of people - those who swallow a camel and choke on a gnat and those who see a single pot overgrown with ice plant and sweet potato vine then turn it into the rose bowl parade. One sees the universe in an atom and the other reduces the observable to the flaw in the design

This is where I explain what my words are substitutes for secretions depicts. If the need to expel something, the desire to feel it like I did, the necessity of sack-didja-wee-a-little of the sap of life promulgating the intention to reveal once and for all - - then alot of kisses on the bottom, I’ll be glad I gottem.