A Ron’s cross word on the beginning of soon

Along a pondering circle of crying women are mega compositions, slow translucent copper art pieces, remnant things. Remnant couples that love each other. Stubborn and forever in peril from the clock of lamb and cow and sheep and donkey. I lack all ability. I love ability. I have massive roasts in my forehead, and shaking breasts under my shirt. I am Odysseus in woman’s clothing and a woman on god speed, like a chaotic symphony for the proud. I… Who am somewhat still racing a rabbit, and somewhat still longing for the pillow that sprung my sleep trap and called upon my mare master; the tea drinker, the beauty, stem both my feet towards a silent window. What I’m saying is that I no longer hear the screaming envelopes slamming at my carpet while asleep. I have ten teeth… At least! But every time I cry for mercy he just rips out another finger. It’s like he never really wanted those teeth. I have bills to pay man! I have serious fines in my fig tree! Not the fruit… That’s a FIG. I claim all of it though… Still buying time for that watch I saw. It ticks like a sparrow nests. It says hello every morning and calls me honey. I told it not to blemish my friends, but never has it heard a word I’ve said on the subject. I guess I’ll have to turn my mad face on. Real mad… Like a sad, but very dangerous pig, on a mission for tidewater. Bring me my hills back, and take them to me in my dreams, for the words mean nothing. That is, if you are not in terrible peril as well. I have a high class sentimental side issue. Gay pirate transvestite bipolar syndrome. That I will be. Thank you, my mare master. I heed your great deeds, and I plan on investing in some fancy furnace systems. It’s because I never really got to any conclusion on the heat and the cold. I crumble my hands under the weight of a hammer if I can’t get through to that damned stove soon! It’s been irritating me into an almost annoying state. I need to have that cow, and I need it with salsa all over. I have sambaphobia and phobic sandwiches when I’ve got my nerves with me into the kitchen. Have I ever thought of buying one? What? An owen? No… A sandwich! Well… It has struck my mind a few times yes. Can I get you any, now that I’m apparently on my way to the sandwich guy on the corner? No. I know what I did too. You are alone, if you are within me, with that statement. What are you telling me sir? I’m just saying that I need headspace! Headspace! Headspace??? Yes sir… Don’t call me sir! You just did! Sorry for the inconvenience. I have this head ache. Have you ever heard of a head ache like this one? I think so, yes. Where? I do not know sir. What? Problem child… I meant that the keeper always saves a certain amount for his friends right? I’ve never told you I was a friend. Sorry. No I’m sorry. Hug? Yes please. By the way sir… What!? No… Problem beast… Have you heard of the formula 1 car game. Oh yes. I have both seen it and practiced it. Really!? No way! Yes… I have. No you have not. No I haven’t. Let’s sing: “Apple sauce making it’s first retreat, rejoicing from the enormous heat… Apple sauce making i…” A tribute to a fabulous drummer.

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