Seriously Though Dileriously So

Seriously though deleriously so I smashed my index finger between two ten pound weight plates at the gym now I'm typing rather gingerly cringeing but still here still springing creativity to life vividly like crystal rotating with sunlight illuminating twilight like an expensive disco ball might then I'll shatter it darkening the earth incrementally more incentively poor invested cellar door hell bent warped not an uptight gent, willing to fight for lint, but nice as if a part of me was christ-- sacrelidge? I'm smacking kid's foster parents like they were clown faced punching bags lunching on fake fads I've got a hunch that I'm sad, but I cling to not being a dunce like a bunch of Bush voter's in the past my writing seems to last I seem to ignite and blast when my fuse is at wick's end and my wits multiply like rabbits turning into different colors twirling in blending never brown but something profound and possibly not sensed by sight like that lurching heartbeat of the night when stillness sounds violent during calm vibrant vibrating insects strumming their wings humming hymns they sing about the footfalls of wolves on cold nights -- breath bursting from their teeth with puffs of steam rising past their moonlike eyes nocturnally shining darting on us wandering in the woods blinded can't see the wolf can't even hear it until the growl announces the fight like a round one bell only this time you better pull a gun or else you are done, a knife perhaps you could stab its stomach as it leaps, if it leaps, I'd imagine that it would just thrash you by a limb, toppling you to the ground swiftly putting teeth in your neck clenching with high pressure till you have no breath and the knife you so planned to save your life rolls off your unsqueezed hand. You hear a low growl as you fade like wind darted sand. 

The End

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