A Spring of Stank Autumn
Fallen got up and got cuppity cup. Who’s thirst was it anyway? You take the two dollars, divide it by anonymous, and no one gets parched anymore. Race ever won. Though. Haha. It is funny sometimes. You lay it flat it’s the ocean; the river in motion. How many times–
–do we rise from the bank bottom. Stank autumn. A burning leaves refocused, forged in the valley of the let’s thrice again–many times the charm–hobbling with arm open and heads on backward. Hark we are here and we dumb from the water. We birthed of the otter. We swim to the rim, but then what’s alma mater?
Eve has got dibs.
Fumble the wherewithal; cuddle the squid.
I would do it for forty dollars. Show me the gunny. Almost the win, but we did it for honey.
Digging for gold and direction is buried.