marionette avec le chaiz normal

The sweet smell of roasting clover in a breeze so soft, so transperant that it was likely found lacking in some category by which people list the qualities contained within it.  Together we walked in lines broken apart into a scattered sun which burned our flesh and opened our aortas.  The stigma applied to all is a welcome release from the throws of normal happiness.  Their drawing nearer sets them further back from the front seat of infinity boiled like an egg without a crown attached to the centermost leg of a dying turtle.  This sandy miasma, this feeling of utter completeness.  It passes, we pass, we pass through a tunnel, it has no opening on either side, we are ejected through the hole and land on our feet.  Further walking reveals the adjunct mindless and mundane corrolory and a bent sunhat without a profitable mayonaise leader.  Unwelcomed into prosperity was a tart, it gleamed and insulted our better tastes.  It was delicious.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: