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I am one with the community. Butts are used for toilets. Leaving out a 't' in that word has left my dictionary. I am a man without a father, with the infinitely small soul of a piece of sap ready to flood the terraces of banality at any point. When there is no call for alarm, help is granted by a 6th sense outside of sight, taste, touch, sound and smell. I drift languidly in the night as a stalker of atoms and grasshoppers. The latter bounces through the wind to my blessed canal of wax and somehow plunges through jargon to get to a head that is 1/1 something to the power of something the size of the ocean. I see why baby poppers with rotten milk cartons and drunk millionaires find solace in black on white late at night on a box (or rectangle). I'll lick my lips as I yawn and try to make my tongue hit each part of the circumference of my lips. The failure of the endeavor makes me reassess the failure. Each letter is less relevant than the last but being less relevant to a point of utter languor keeps the arthritis at bay. Then again, at one year less than Taylor Swift's age, infinite languor being 0 and infinite pride of 1,000,000,000 views results in a 1 with 0's that is as relevant as the reader of this stuff wishes to make it.
Math has always been my strong point, supplemented by well-aimed computer screens, kicks to the chest and 'butty' 'BUTTY' which apparently means dog in some Indian language. Growing up to classics is like fingering an angel's beard. I don't know why I'm doing it but its comfort is an eternity. Ending any book brings me around 5.999 feet deep. A couple more 9's would hire an undertaker. He never comes around to getting the job done because I find another book. Someone told me today that my birthday was irrelevant. It was one of the greatest compliments I have ever received seeing that my birthday incidentally lies on New Years Eve. Perhaps if I lectured her on diet pills and driving school my face would be symmetric after golf club and computer hurls. On the topic of hurling, I nearly did so after drinking aloe water but my canisters of love making have been kept at bay. I am grateful for that. I heard from what one might call a reliable source that lotion, spiderman undies, and 49 rowboats with the right hand can leave one paralyzed or dead. 4 16 second sessions turns the boy into the man every night. A clear head is all a boy needs to find the axiom of manhood. A man finds his community. I go to bed.