These buttons are great for yoga.
Yoga is great for bad hair days.
Paranoia: put out your wig!
It is on fire!
Come join us!
The master is not busy leveraging the cliché.
He is saying:
‘Come, fear not!’
‘Scared of the hyperactive bathroom?
Bad vibes good for bowels!’
Fear is paisley cheeks.
(My wish list is finally getting the idea.)
Singapore blight.
Lights sitting on eyelids.
Cool.
Cool: I do love Alzheimer’s gimmicks.
This button, if I press it.
Ngh ... whazzackly would it do??
Viking walk-in closets clang
on the shoulders and hips
of the embonpoint.
Like the man whose psyche
grips him tight with hard clumsy
blunt paws lest he runs away naked
yodeling free.
‘Fear is itself not a fearful entity.
‘Fear if taken out of context, I mean.’
[Master clears throat politely, embarrassedly.]
‘It likes cereal.
‘It was born in a canoe.’
Is there any truth to the rumor
cities will go faster if I let go?
Why so many commercials about
decomposing and about decomposition?
Wielding my outsize Victorian hat under the bus sign.
Hair lice helpfully weigh in on my companion’s
braiding problems in the morning.
Whistling.
I feel so useless.
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