The voracious lipid pools of light that dangle between the nostrils of destiny are hoping that the calamity of my existence will saddly awaken the monkeys that fling the emptiness of eternal cosmic prairie dogs eating small peices of the cheese-like pile of earth that hum happily little ditties from cabarets in the lonely streets of bustling towns where others walk slowly wondering if the hardened crusts of dough will slowly rise to the cumulous notions of clouds in time for brunch.
