Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Samsonite Luggaged at the Airport

What would you do if you realized that you had all of the limbs necessary to penetrate the thought patterns of a genius who knows nothing about common sense but everything about the ethereal nature of exotic misgivings of neandertholic mantra writing poets?

Why else would a lumbering tornado suffer the qualms of a geeky sordidness? Due to a fluke of quixotic somnolence?

j

4 comments:

ptarmigan said...

Qt messn' wit' my thot pattrns

ManNMotion said...

I was there and saw the whole thing but I'm sworn to secrecy

Brotha Buck said...

erotic and quixotic in the same prose. Neurotic!

moofruot said...

do you know what's green?