fearing the old water

gargling. that’s the answer. respect the irreducible contraptions. they will HAUNT you. eat your liver. and spill your unconfessed “sins” to the vasty porpitude. in case, you were wondering. you know. thundry/lightny gods were playing in the skies above my house last night. playing dice or maybe backgammon. that’s a good game for fogs to play. (i mean, gofs or doofs) enough stricture to keep them from erasing… er.

so there you are. then. then then.

feel that braincurdle welling up. i mean, that toecurdle. or why do the eyes brimup sometimes? that old throatcurdle. where are you, my nejurochemisticals, going to?

“it’s hard to watch ducks float by when your nose is goosepinched….”

i have no happy link for you today. or no sad link neither. contrariwise, only dull links that i’m not linkering too. dingdongdellyo.

2 thoughts on “fearing the old water”

  1. I’m not thundery lightnergod, lingering around the pasthumorous. I just sit here perched like carp, succeeding only in not not perching, the paper is wet and soggy.

    I can’t type on the wet and soggy.

    It’s strange out today and it permeates my every port.

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