A Solitary Red Oat.

The wrist taken is not equivalent to the fault 

deployed, and the name I recite when asked is 

sometimes shaded with the accent I acquired in 

elementary school to please my immigrant fore-

arms. Still, we are alarmed when three of the last 

opportunities for a value proposition turn to dust 

in the large mouth of an invisibly gentle thing. 

It's all about the coating but the countless reasons 

we fabricate to avoid testing our derived mental 

mark-up are down for one last count. This one 

is shielded, but still made of a single solitary red 

oat. The brim, we will not lie, suits the lady in 

question to a functional 'T'.

______________________________

Your sanitary preparation is assumed. Do not disappoint.

We are bumping into more and more risks as we ply our last remaining trade as the light fades and it becomes difficult to locate the pain that is to become our sole cause of action. The potential for failure is ever present and a partially formed distance is called a 'tri-nome', but bask we do and blast we will until all untidy motivations have skidded to a wrongful desk pattern of some sad person's devisement. 

Our latest customized vehicle.

The groping allegations have filled my Aunt Jill with a pressing need to urinate at dusk but a prime dialogue is always ingenius for the sake of the persons-of-interest in a foreign prosecutor's basement dungeon. Why do these farcical nomads continue to dilly-dally at freezing the binge-rate? Is it because procuring liquid oxygen is limiting our free decision space? Try to think more deeply as the creased paper recedes or else try not to foreclose the pathetic choice of optional clothing. It's always about opinions in the long run. But just a short walk from here it will get you healed in a semi-solid way. It may not hurt but you'll remember we told you it would and smile softly in your subtle self and feel glad but not terrific, we promise. Your Dad's in jail. 

___________________________________________