WOOZE is the parachute ratty, one bunk cord now the air is scooped badly. Dripping out the sticks like a twig-tweed hammock.
Miter cut the cables for that quick, clean transit miser took the big screen; Panic made a business card ankle out of whack, painkiller tobacco scrap. We navigate the yellow corn hype for the barn when the spotlight swiveled hard right over the farm.
Billy-goat beard twenty years in the making, Carried lures in his brim, carried beer in his waders, stinked like alcohol of all prominent flavors, carried knives in his vest, carried war in his nature, sat among the forest floor critters and pine cones, could tie a perfect fly with his eyes closed, Veteran angler with a mission to run, Make all naysayers hold t-t-t-tongues.
Busting accidental dirt bike donuts, outside the most ridiculous poison tongue brain silo, dead before the chubby debutante conquered the high note, schooled by the cruel intention inventions pensive sideshow.