Concussion Therapy

the free state is actually not free casting my line into the many manipulations worked by dust devils and hierophants gambling their grunt wages on my young ass like cowboys on a cattle free vacation unwelcome by all rational standards it's a new skill set for those complicated shadows and their thistles and thorns tearing at the flesh hounds snuffing and baying and getting close wishing for an angel to wrap her arms around you swindled by Fate that two bit alley hustler while storming the gates of credulity a knight most errant enters at a slant lance lowered at the donjon's holy centrifuge and its manifold rank ranks of rank an armload of blackmail mail to deliver keeping those bacon and eggs on the menu with every move and happenstance an augury the one thing that can never be said with all such derivative conclusions from those who fear becoming has beens more than they fear the death wagon an envy complex every child's heirloom Fate's leg rubbed mine under the table hunted me down with yellow eye wolves her deluvian templates swung into action contouring my meat manikin to the last atom in a mechanical avalanche of likenesses credibility factor fading like a wet witch being clueless this seemed applicable to my case unable to attenuate the accursed guilt magnets a contriver of advantage beneath the beasts a product of her times assuredly no excuse concussion therapy and then crimson horror you'll want to live among people that talk straight not having to be lunatic or trapped in ethnology to find oneself receptive any longer