Premature budgets aligned with nights of bad performance and sudden ejaculations. If it wasn’t for watering my money my tree would never grow and I would end up in a native American sweat lodge soaking in heat and steam searching for my encounter with mescalito all while not having consumed any mescaline.
The Brits say bloody brilliant while I bite my tongue from embodying the personality of botanical garden unsupervised. It should be against the law. Ponds of gold fish swimming in once floating feces while some consume the droppings of others. I can’t decide if I’m speaking of humans or fish anymore.
So the money is gone and the avalanches decided that for themselves. The wallet was washed away by eroding diamonds on glass panels begging for window cleaner so gleaming light can gleam in and photosynthesize the plants. Food, food, food surrounding all with towers of flowers leaning like pizza in French cafes on Elm Street.