Candor? I hardly know ‘or

 There’s something pretty hilarious about the pretty hilarious something. I haven’t had a second to be first, but maybe after a fifth I’ll smoke an eighth.

Don’t be ham-handed with your ham-fists. Hamburgle your way out of the situation.

Times are changed, I’m a Gentlegod

The taste of stale cigarettes, comforting like a warm blanket over my asthmatic lungs. Chuckling, bouncing, wiggling into the sound of your discomfort. Bloodstains streak the sunset and you shudder sinuously, seemingly mistaken about sordid senseless semantics.

Fluids leak from your weakened orifices as you sigh with contempt. Of course you’re the fucking clown in charge of clowns. Of course, you sick bastard. What else would you be? A moron?

Meaning seeps and weeps from your pores and sores, as you well deserve.

The way you hold the bat when you swing

One could argue that the re-activation of nascent memories is a form of synaptic terrorism. End the reign of the oppressive pattern-matchers! Retvrn to asentience!

The wind is taking a nap between its groaning and swooning and I’m a little anxious that an unexpected vehicle will appear in the driveway past my obstructed line of sight and present a social situation when it starts churning distant leaves

Tear our the old and mud the walls for new paint, but what lurks behind them? Would you want to know?

Shuffleboard Maximus

A baby! A baby! A soon-born child!

What have I done? What have we all done?

Once upon a time there was a dunce who made a rhyme and he was understood but I’m the one who wonders if he’s fine and if I blunder it’s a crime to be the wonderful benign pathetic dumbass with a line or two to comfort his own mind

I’m not bleeding, I’m dripping with sarcasm

Oho, we are a little late, aren’t we?

Delving into the deepest corners of your mind, you discover that you desperately need to Swiffer, but static electricity doesn't actually work in this dimension. You shrug hopelessly and shuffle your feet in a little two-step to work off the anxiety. Giants loom in the distance, leering, but you ignore them as you focus on the most important thing you can think of.

I'm perfectly normal! you shout uselessly into the gale as the stormclouds darken the sky. I'm just like all the rest of you, I just get a little mixed up sometimes! No one believes you, not even yourself. It's ugly, but there isn't time for you to reformulate your plan of attack, so you collapse on the ground and aren't sure if you did it on purpose or not. No one comes to look for you.

There hasn't been a solid explanation in week and you've given up on asking. The truth is no longer an option, but the lies are unbearably laughable and the arbiters have absconded all pretense of neutrality. But if it was pretense, did it ever actually matter? A crooked limb shudders and creaks under the weight of the snow.

The truth? What does that word even mean? Sounds like something you might use to mash fruit for cobbler. Let's take the truth and crush the juice right out of these berries.

gortical streptorsh mer bicken jeepster

what the fuck man. I mean like. what the fuck. I don't even.

I still brood over your malevolence but I am learning to let it go. You must hope for what's best for your enemies so they can stop being such useless buck duggers.

I had a sleep, they told me. I had a good sleep. I never awakened, they told me. I am shake and bakened.

ashes

haven't bleeked a murph rockstible

utterly normative gender performative splendor comported as rendered distortion
I shudder with your given centering listen spending fortunate men turning scores in

handwich the dock-spaggle, meep xir condequast wicktual despordeckedent wick stangible

BUNG STUNGIBLE

hacknar bickey doock awk mer vor dest clamt morglestly

haven't never saddened clever fur-clad endeavor furnishing ever turgid compulsion sure for eruption

half-muttered malingering

cross-pollinate and collaborate

a lot of good conversations going on

as we start to look at our strategic plans, we will talk a little bit about the budget but not spend as much time on the budget as the actual plan

once your plans and strategies and your plans and your budgets are approved with your liason I don't need to be involved in the approval process

we have a lot on the docket

Profundity

No one ever uses the metaphor of constipation for writer's block even though most people only talk shit out their mouths like an episode of South Park.

The shadow of mortality lengthens as the sun approaches the horizon.

I need a new elevator speech, but first I need to figure out who I am. No, that sounds like some Life's Little Instruction Book bullshit. I need a new elevator shaft.

Ask your doctor and help make tomorrow possible. Or else you die. Actually, you die either way.

round in the middle, hounded a bit, the sound of acquittal making the best of surroundings

bounded and brittle, pounded the fiddle, gown is a little lengthier than it had sounded

plenty of works are astounding, first of the wicked, burst with a prick and thirstier than a stick

when these commercials get loud the worst kind of dick is nursing afflictions worse than addiction

What was I saying again?

Ah, that's right. Sinister lies and tornadoes.

It's extremely unlikely that you'll recover the original from these. Or will you? I'd pay a dollar for an algorithm that could reverse engineer what a machine has learned.

Parched lips too dry to prime the pump, but maybe I just need a glass of water.

Rhyme engine falters, time again halted, stymied and tolerated, combining exonerated, stop smiling and don your grey bib as rocks fly in cadence; mock my pervasive obnoxious inflated toxicity based in less oxygenated Stockholm compression and not learn a lesson complex as an awkward question? Yes, then we'll express jocular effluence often in retrospective sessions concealing regret from our brethren.