Tic Tock.

Brussel Sprouts marching to brussels.

Lilacs in the air.

Giants chewing on mussels.

Me chewing a pear.


Why these ( pause for rhythm) lines?

I do not know.

But one thing that's for sure.

I've just stubbed my toe.

400.

There were 400 spartans. Over at Thermopylae.

Some place characterized by super yellowish day.

I know you're thinking, 400? That's 100 too much.

You see they're not Spartans, THEY ARE FOUR HUNDRED WORDS LEFT ON MY STINKING STORY I DON'T LIKE TO WRITE BECAUSE IT'S LIKE AN UGLY CHILD I'M FORCED TO LOVE! AUUUUGGHGHHHHH!!!!!

Slippity Wippity Dicklety Doo!

Wince and Wobble, next and crumble. 

Next to stumble, wabble and fumble. 

If you don't geddit, read it and wonder. 

Till your brain farts and blows asunder. 

A Short Dream.

I want to fly first class,

My Breitling leaning out of my jacket sleeve,

The air stewardess smiles at me.

A crystal glass of champagne between my index and thumb,

I look out the window,

It's New York.

Goodnight.

Read Shmead

Rubbing your eyes across the words of a page is never easy. Most books tear into the skin of your eyeballs with each and every word, a complete pain to read. Case in point, the science text book. Your hands pull open the cheaply laminated cover only to be greeted with tissue thin paper with runny ink, flowing into a diatribe of painfully exact words.

Not my idea of fun. 

Then, there are books. Exciting, the shades and colors jump at you from behind every   syllable. The mind runs by a stream of words, leading from suspense to suspense with the eyes running unfettered from sentence to sentence, each idea pouring into the next idea. Easily read, easily understood. A joy. 

I just need to find those books. Someone show me!