writers blog (bog) more practice

over a spelling wrror, I couldnt deceive the eal of a nagoon. which is a lagoon like of black blue.

we were talking and writing about the root of paranoia.

but Neal had sealed the deranged from the courageous to hire a thief in the night.

we were in love. dire straights had told me never to beat myself with spirit again. the bannangae lay on the table food for thought.

a kind sister had called be, Wely, and deserved as much as she could succeed.

does paranoia pull oneself from oneself?

a trigger like the pullstring on a bag?

no, only the featherpen.

unless the light was too bright, oerhead.

he burped and went to the kitchen.

ales are ales. the leter l. where all things are with.

hung

there on the refrigerator like.

miracle by chance.

the city team had won the home, big, game.

and a spiel lay ahead.

where doth traffic drive?

and he went out the door.

damn.

oh, shount be say that.

the rains not alive.

but a musical air taught the patchwork in the chair crossed soft wood. datch, he thought it was called.

but was this the right book, as he walked out the door, bag in hand.

/

on the end of the street, newspaper stood in a batbox calling out the nares of the world.

cars rushed past, he was in pain.

smells of a different sort that he ever found stood in the market. what was this?

don't know. a magic piece of air. reminded hom of a song.

where had the light began to bite him around the edges of his coat. hahaha. it's just like that.

no he thought, smells of wild. smells of masdness and the sea. he would drive to the sea, saw some birds, and let go of the spiels lingering strength.

how do u bird?

adked a mailmenhatted passerby.

everyone goes birding different I suppose.
they come down from the sky, not vurds but birds. like songs, peaches of smell.

without strangling a nightmare. or burden of blame, just storms in the nose.

kind of like the market, like a nap in the unchanging.

ceaion he said.

how is that right then?

it smiles. like green. that's how I go birding. and vurding. and wording.
he writes down a name.

that's where u could go, he tells the mailman.

look within the sky.

as for your other quest, he looks happy and walks off.
the stranger, not him.

nope. (note) not this piece. jk. it was good.