So deer run into the dark because dark is a champion. We see the events described by those who grow anger. The anger grows in rations, fed to pour. Something about how selfies execute electrons in election years and further remonstrances. Periods of poor light. And the deer run in the dark without sharing names, only the simplest light glint in their eyes until tomorrow. We can talk about tomorrow as a nation of force. Force is a final subject, left mostly for children and the bleak hold of the rented day. Thank you for listing.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
The sentence factor by which we say things a bit builds great momentum to knowing the way down a street where sometimes. Effort along routes that mean so, last time or maybe. The sentence factor supplies everything tho nothing is a lot. The sentence structure wears only, instance and because you have to listen if not care. Drown again, just for show. Each word comes to a conclusion with a tap of meaning implied. Wind in words, as a memory cap. Trucks contain truck, dogs dog. Sentence factor endlessly.
Sometimes they swim. Sometimes the town and all the people tell of swimming. A church or two will open a door for a while and water seems real. They swim when they can, in an hour of need or wish you could tell. No one wants a bird anymore.
All the fish are marvelous but the sky opens anything. Surefire rain on the same day as everything, and the people know it. They have been here, and there. Here and there each centre the people. One town is naturally another. People are like that.
Today the people wonder swim. They have didactic reasons and a full wavery diction. Tunes pop up like asking more. Sometimes no word is left, only the floating thing on the water, thing. You could hold the day open, or closed. The people will try any island.