What Diddle Told Me Today

taste pause. relink. think again. noise was brain fodder for this stream.               the beam.  team riot of metal petaled flowers, flowing, just bowing a bit,

two, or three, zeros and T.  swiviled trivial minor notes in a major play with a semi tone higher ride. symbol. crash.  when the hello hat clicks, time ticks to the metro gnome, underground cities push metal cards of paper people through tunnels of swirly lighted bouroughs, and just to get home to pizza.  delivery was de journey.  of the day, like pain. the french kind. kisses.

trying to say, courting one rule of law, euclid and his mess of adam and evening woes of geo metronomy, the taxation of a triangle into a gram of parallel universes, squish.

                                            the fat spider sat down, for where else could it, but peep, dirty spider, whey out super daddy long legged furry monster bosher.  oh well, that's how spiders roll. dicey. and a drawing of clay, yay, back to respect, or was that dylan, no it was danger zone, with the helmet, or baseball.. no it was joan jet, or was it the ark - nevermind that.  the planet said pi would be served, at circumfrence.  like that city, that never sleeps. or sweeps its sidewalks, crust.

edit this.  it might turn a page, one day after, and even, oddly enough, is enough, or so the 8 youngsters said in 1980 on the televisioned afternoon afterschool snacking programme.  and yay it was so. ho ho, and a glass of milk.                                   

spaced out, as dots on a bot that hasn't been invented. tomorrow maybe, it dreams under your bed for you to turn out the lights.  and then you crawl to plug it in only to change its batteries again and again. oh D, see?

lighted mesmur and his cat are at it again.  patting i/o towers and wanting to tap into electro duff's mystical dream juice.  the kind that runs socks under wood flooring, at 10 feet cold start, through a concrete jungle with plants, powered footing to climb and map the rain.

                                            soliloquizonitions.  pre monitize our collection plate, pews one two three have yet to pay, though they wished they could, in a basket, cased upper to lower, as in a sir named madam, and even towit twins of each other.  peaked an interest in valleys today.  the southern airline flies west of the dotted line to sign.  beep. it was a rolled up trolly from san francisco.  and it turned around on a wheel to see you again - oh yes - its on stilts to walk over the muck, as sweepers reap the metal rings from noses of addicted kleen exes.  and the rain that washes them out, the spouting fouls, chick.                                                             .. and that was what diddle told me today.

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Aqua Q