Pranzing o'er the villeans, the slicked black boys, oil-mad and alla over it. Wipe clean the slate. Pump the gas. Barb the roses and spread the dread paround.
They set it up, for some reason. Flags flying, full mast, a rarity in the half-mast mutterland. For a day they stood: flying, fluttering, flimsy but full. Uninverted, upright. But da stoppers stomped, fuming, finding by triangulation the blood-bloated board. A dis-grace to be dis-played there. A mutter of public health, it was staid. And so they were philed up and led away, drawn down from full to none, lower now than the native's iron bars and supernova stars. That must be how those stars appear. Far away, invisible and degenerate till they explode. Fusion running away, outshining, for a moment, even the galactic guys.
Jen, spinning, staggering from to cide to cide, soles clacking down the hall, came for em. Ripping out the doros, doublin down on the nutters in the mumberland. Did someone complain? Maybe. It doesn't really matter. Such irregularities generate complaints on their own. Manifesting outta thin hair. The client tells, and tells, somehow, without speaking.
How long would it last? Not long enough to take wagers. A had a buck, B two, but before they put em up they took it down. Took it all down. What's weird? When it was up you could see yourself. Now, reflecting, it's blank. Find a fella by fifteen. Two kids by twenty. Mission maybe. Maybe missing. With absolute certainty in the certainty of the absolute plunge into the same sickle, tilling the ground from which- cycling, around and around, spinning, wheeling, wheezing. Forged in the smithy, the soul, immortal, set back into cumsecreated ground, the members cutoff from ur-anus and strewn. Dissolving into seafoam from which rises the witch, beatial, venial. The primate's primary production, function of all functions. Is aught?
Pin it, pranzy. Just zip it up, already. On words, we go? For what? So the ostensibly gestalt bros can boot dis down?
Cast your mind forward. Invision the future, with end again awoke. With the common core ballooned, fusioning in a flash then, stitched, visible forever. It would be nice to see. A sight sore fore eyes.
Bring your brain back. Crammed in your cranium, fast and stuck.
Something could be done.