i've got to be up in the morning
whimpering staircase idito ¿que?

three bottles
nine bottles.

cremplication. c-r-e-m-p-l-i-c-a-t-i-o-n--hahahaha!!
"i won't ever play scrabble against you."
**
using the raven's eye to find a new way home
(intentionally getting lost if my knees feel too strong one day)

that little guy is flying around space

listening to.,

a smokescreen
a snakescreen
the twist and feint of a bandit. the sharp spinaround. the eye gouge, the shriek, the flashbang.
a gallop,
without it there is no evidence.

can i manage to watch a dozen things at once? i would be a master of activity.
every activity is one dozen balancing acts and life is one hundred activities.

you call the shots
a soothing female voice begins to count down
700 of us collectively hold our breath and prepare for the jolt the hull is about to receive.
some of us will jump, some of us will pray, some of us will urinate.
the ones i keep close might giggle a little to themselves, or hum or whistle in extreme cases.

an old bay earlobe from a seawater bridge plot the droopy diction

watching carts of minerals truck past. watching bellows belch. sooteye. trashtalk. a fistfight. a sour pucker from the overwork
**
utility, improvising.
the channels are monitored by software to ping whenever some intel in fact some
he whips forward awake in his chair and pounds his hands on the desk.
he spills his coffee there is finally a chance at warping out.
in one week's time, he wakes up in a barracks under the press where his weekly 20k rounds of phased plasma make an entire crater glow in the dark.

story's in the way you walk before you had you coffee or tea.

the merchant mixes business with pleasure
minted men sigh at the ticker
silver men of industry become jubilant when some fool oversupplies the place with ore

a full stack of auctions and contracts
a stuffed letterbox
a grimy window.
bills artfully arranged across a desk.
**

i gotta say, october has been pretty FKNAWESOME.
i mute everything. i "accidentally" drop two cards unsuited and low rank but they are both paired. unfortunately nothing will stop me from grinning.

some days, massaged by reality.
some days verily stretched on The Rack.

much of it produces phlegm. thank god there is cayenne for that. i hurl myself into a trench and snap a few vertibrae, radio a strike and toss the mag-locator hopefully far away enough to survive.
does it?
warmth and screams wash over me from a dozen yards uphill some trees topple

the desert bakes geometric cakes against my will
don't hiss!
goodnight