Those synthetic others are golden pieces advertisements of fulfillment where hot stuffed filling rises like clouds from chthonic prompts The under-verse votes against the others their cherry vehicles driving with destiny reaching untaxed government closures and rich pieces of crispy dream puffs War is a day by day drudgery of work with biological concerns topping out chemical formulae on installment plans slipping over horizons that disintegrate Rainfall incessantly flows away washing residues toward unplanned gutters moving mud and debris before the appearance of starry nights Next year the galaxy is discovered on the edge of mega clusters of swirling stuff providing opportunity for imagination even if the world is rough Spirit is closer than a heartbeat away for each and every other’s fluff need be drawn to reason while there is light in the day.
