rock the sand into the old heave ho pleasure run-off down the estuary string ~ tide signs the stink mud with bait worm punctuation naked causeway ellipsis . . . to kent
we voluntarily cry out for vulnerable unconsciousness at the days tumbled ellipsis . . . & if the gift is given then praise be ~ we disappear somewhere then somewhere in brackets that noone proofread trusting in the walls around us & dawns scheduled bold font vtol that highlights nights two way mirror in grey smudge ready for deletion with coffee number 1 ~ then the day is there like a flat tire is there a hospice of full stops pretending to be italic comic sans