Extra words go to extra places. They fill that amazing day under the password. They exist in parcels delivered to winded trees that find rhythm. They aren't for friends exactly.
A miracle encloses all that smite found. We can name names but not people. People are a tribe aloof from, strainingly. That's the plain diagnostic added to gun control or open your fat mouth. Your fancy word for poetry becomes undone.
Spurious pleasure, the kind that takes minutes and takes them, this is the prevalent noun. We exclude because we are tempted. The rocks on the edge of the ocean know better. With elegant prose we spell clever. This is the last word before dinner. May we all crash in peace.