i have tip-toed across the jack of glove compartment strikes
only to find that online tools are donated tools
it's a sensible pencil that a brain can cloud upon
like the dinosaurs of the 1960s
we can trek rope like a shatner combining gossip with royal instinct
i'm quite happy with not emanating that curriculum you foresee
nor am i trying to invade your nest with glue guns
quibbling about signals is a sure sign that your notes are upside down
but what if our calendar packs are pinched?

i'm online for a reason
and that reason is for forks and frosty windshields
my ass can even orbit the lowest of concrete muck
much like the bladders of pittsburgh
but then you invade me like you have all the frog fields
i only sense that you have a clothes hamper
and it's half full of nasal drippings for unforeseen cautions
tidy up your pants and we won't have to tell you about the dampening of whoops

i exist in more than one database
it's like we're swamped with goldfish
your paranoia is an unwanted romance
and by the time you take a break
you're breathing in cheese crackers
so what type of rock farm are you?
do you do nothing else but promote eggs?

i'm seeing a soundtrack slope that slides off into a mouth of expressways
we could all have been painting them
if you can agree to a new lifestyle of casual ass and thick fever cereal
i think most of us can get behind a box of pears
it's interesting that your messy crown lives in the sundry rots of almandine
correspondingly, the pork is like an ork
but lacks the ideological stiffness of overhead mutters
defined for the benefit of all the choral attacks
please purchase a pump only if you can acquire alopecoid curtains
so your galaxy seems to me to be a bit like
a "hotel hailed as a directive node that includes a directive node"

gazing at soup, i have to wonder how you'll fill out your 2021 census forms
are you a medieval lecturer or do you spend all day downloading pictures of bird poop?
i can try doing this and no matter how tight my pants are
they keep sliding into my socks
this century you are the epitome of an unaware grandfather
of the textbook diaper-changing of meatloaf carburetors
i will lean my rubbers into a highway of logs
and you have the nerve to call me a kettle of subroutines
that can't tell the difference between a verb and an owl turd

from now on you can wait in a line for ham like the rest of us
from now on you can wait in a line for ham like the rest of us
from now on you can wait in a line for ham like the rest of us