Musings 2050: DeadBeat Prosers Cultural-Conniver-Society::: 3.2. 1. *=-+_]]]\

What is circumstantial in resin-ous claims and fortuitous shames than to alter the amber and inflame the hubrous of viscous consisentency in order to produce energentic circumstances than can only to some scent endrenching incense of herbal sorts; natural to the law of nature- therefore, a soulful digestive of ambience and perspective soothing tranquilities otherwise known as; relaxation.

In this moment, I found myself troubled. As my amber is hardened and tourmilanated. This too is good, as my insurance doesn’t cover exceptional writers that will go to any length to advocate for some type of misfit that sits in grass and picks off cancer from the circumspect mosquito out of them room instead of popping dollar store antihistamines. Even the amber knows I have a heart -murmur. At least the cancer seeps out in crusts. I peel them off of my own sandwiches in order turn them into jeweled encroute. And that’s the soot I’ll serve to myself for ~a-lil~extra something. Was this validation-Now? No. I have to mine and mind and grind for my work.

7 is the number of magic and mysticism. Perhaps universal, is the way I’ll choose to go when lightstream hits the cord on my sourblooms chasing suns and starry eyes in moonlight. Even the flowers know to look up. And im no pansie of the riverbed. I grew above that time. Now, it’s time to be funny about it.

😄/🪻/😎