*

How can I neck you into warming
up tomtom heartbeats, migrating
to boundaries by hand
to hand in a laughing matter?

Trick question.
That’s how comedy for squares works.
If it’s a question today,
Tomorrow, what’s the transition?

Reciprocating.

*
And do not take poison if you are allergic to poison.
Show more of you.

I hate being made fun of.
In the interim I’ve written jokes,
All natural as clouds part — over 1000 —
The aerodrome softly moans .. It could be roars of laughter falling into introspection

slotted for long silent scream divisions with fearful levels of emergence
— raising our subatomic airheads front and center.
And owing to your interest... this won’t constitute a date.

Jumps to universality mature into familiar splashes of anesthesia: Takes my place being places (an event in tropes) — 

Meantime, we’re here for discovery thru inflection in lap pools of condensed matter from the aquatic world. 
The named oceans are dated, right, left 
Pouting, getting better! When they come to — there will be perorations re-
framing rainwater within fairer scents rimming sunshine in suspension, ripped, 

Amputated chutes off moisture! 

Grape vines burst out, nonlackluster. Though I love grime, universality’s guilt-
making — her carrying me thru, unphased: She does this to deplete me of hope. 

1st choice for a sonnet is to solve for x. Be funny and coalesce. 

Dear multiple choices from eternity: Send a message I can wolf down. Convey a sense of urgency that’s superfluous. Then put anesthesia off.

I’m not afraid of showing the much simpler, formless inexact I degrade and dissipate into highly animate raw munition. My fingers are supposed to cohere in two hands I cull from hearsay. Raising one exudes only passion, which if you allow I agree with, with intertwined wilderness raising two, a life I want.

Tonal jumps signify charity in a geometric
float off.. .

repurposing one’s ego, raising stakes
according to odds makers for daring.

Don’t show us
your simple skill. Make it work.

This is god’s country.
A man in drag wearing a gown I tie.
Your cool red bones,

A cold star, partly the wind,
Your superb gall
And me, I’m feelings which move in time
While this lowest button erases..

There they go
When you say

Well stay well
Where they rang.

Sweetest of the geeks take their lessons to heart and join a special breed apart. Hoody, fucked-up demeanor and default dalliance with convention will get us to our destinations faster and more pumped. Something about / the “human couplet” / keeps us up at night. It’s a military formula, zennish, roughly, common enough striving to write as well as rock.

I’m going to leave you in the middle of the city where you belong, you robot of a dog.

I hate caps on pens in use.
Copy that, sir.

“Stages of violence yearn for a whereabouts.
Conditions look dispersed — beeping you (did I?),
not out of calculation; it began how far and vast

signals liberate you to oppose other facts,” you wrote.
Or plans change.
Without speech sex is peroration.
That’s a normal reduction or formula for my song,
So few words on process.

Pyongyang chill is tossed thru the window, river surf rotates
about-face like a mercurial tidal pool

filling sand and dusk with water wheels nearly at rest
as lurches of nibbling torque days into weeks..

Memories of early men remain outside the mother-hole of polarity’s failure & parenthetical judgment. Television ceases to exist. It’s two decades into a future past. There’s a quiet patch that grew into a void with stark choices, starker interiors. My position is to add approximations of muscle to physical combat. I’m spry in my motives while the open field fills with a.i. shapes fighting the relative fight to operate on one another.

Didn’t they tell you 

thinner tones and soft muscularity are proof 

— our brains are being stolen; after 


we wander back home muttering “TV, 


TV,” a mildly eccentric suburbia 


waiting for a payday of awe-inspiring relaxation. 
Talk? You hoped we might &?

Is that how you see yourself?

— your idea of daylight
every day becoming ordinary knowledge
of parallel ebullience

                                waiting to come up
half in sleep:
steadfast in geometry to grant the horizon an horizon, the whole body.

Matters of on-switch:
Mind and body worship conforms to system leaks.
I’m too ugly to be molested. That’s true.

I kissed a cat. Once.

Once out of what? out of dying belief
I wrote on otherness.. when down (“I’ve stopped looking”) otherness came.

A sober-garish run on sentence
Lay before my head cold rumbling..

My body in the language of dunes and trash
— soba colors with melons and daytime news.

I’m sorry for shoddy reasoning and growth. Sorry as important pieces


Of aqua foam and orange foam and glass.

Even more I like meeting mates’ life-changing kisses —
Kisses on progress. To reach the fallen dominoes..

Did you catch Mueller’s report?   
 
Operetta’s focus keeps an eye out, part of industrial knowledge that considers prototype approximates in crazy-fancy contexts plunked out on a keyboard. At first.   
 
Moving forward we have all of an hour to take in sweetness made for infamous exposure (in costume) indoors then out. 
Lights up — we take ourselves down a stretch in the libretto where we reserve dissonance. You deserve it. 
 
Sweetness is vacillating as usual after hours on clear nights. Robbers, cops 
Though fragrant, turn opaque  
 
And poof — still  
..could rain.

If you ingest grief parody is great. I say everything I know about the nostalgia of abstraction with my mouth shut.
No meditation spanning surfaces of the woods, no
massage. No smell of bullet points and none of cedar or balsa. So there’s nothing to bifurcate and render your stinking utter degeneracy.

May you come down with writer’s block in your rotten messianic parole.

... the rookie burns on the outside, his few credits were adamance /
squelching any dramaturgy from adolescent apostacy, lost wealth or ractionable preconditions
/ yet missing

the hard-to-forge signals of the old man’s hold.

Modulating the individual comprises an apotheosis 
according to types of daring.    

Don’t smolder, show us.

Showing results for innuendo: ‘You’re good. Doing this, I offered. Just 
Report to duration centers for the rich for best pricing, unless  
Theft looks better. Go. Fees balanced. Eject.’  
Then you told me repetitive motion went further —  
Making money w/out reason is mass  
 
-ive. After.. surely if that’s the mood, there are vector  
Utilities for expressing wealth after dark..  
 
Sleep has no idea of here and now when everything is the right answer 
.. all on your check.

Song: If every frontal-ist were interrupted, we’d never get back. 
 
This is an integument first to seeing speech as transparent. (‘This’  
 
“is” a great uncle of frontal opportunism.) When you’re young  
nepotism is also rampant in meaning maybe.  
Maybe not as opaque. Ok. I hear voices in the kitchen. My thoughts freeze in total makeover  
as this recedes — putting it mockingly — heading back w/ nothing to add. 

The elevated prose idea of removing tyrants w/out violence
helps you get through life wellness rooms 
circling a moratorium on a unified theory — 
so help yourself — thru Popper’s criterion.

We already have what we ask for.  
Vainly but not fast in never induce italics:  
We gave it up at the Office.  
 
This is hardly ever for the 1st time  
disappearing in molecules like other words, just molecules ago.

— Let’s be fair, the partnership was an accident enjoining boosters of equity.  Runic, compared to poetry now. 

It just snowballed until all frontiers on Earth were taken under one discrete rule. 

Our slogan has been restated: Bodies of formulae destroy poetry until only style prevails. 

(Yay..)

Thudding airlines: The prosecution collapsed 
But you hand over your sack of warrants.   
 
In the end the evaluations are in. Jumbo on   
 

Justice, liberty, rule of law...   
 
Time to concentrate on that killer c.v.   
It’s about warrants for words, Might (Mate). Future thickets.     
 
It’s so much satori — Enablers will cooperate fully.   
For you, a love interest can get calculated —    
 
So. Um.. 
Back to work, first it’s     
 

Urgent we go out and get wasted.     
 
The mood then passes from desolating satire to   
Constant put-downs you parrot like executive control     
 
— Holding firm in the wild dating bars where fireworks slowly ignite   
“In the slumbering gaze” parallel kill and be killed, united obliteration. 

Writing in a scratchy voice for a glass room that rings of convoluted propaganda, in grease paint. 

With brush and paint we wipe dirt off a crescent metal, easy to put off, feed and embrace after the climate changes. So writ, writing in paint. 

Paint on, tell us about your grounding in propositional aesthetics (picked up from affiliates who you think are just like you but aren’t).

I have decent rooms and vegetarian board. Living large is an art prepared without a couth manual. I hope you’re both open to a former way of life stocked with interfering colorations of air as in a plush, intimate drawing room augmented with coarse bouquet. Like Elizabethans, say, we would see there were lots of tulle and offline making of amends. Music sounds on alert changing uniforms for the weekend with some breathy, lithe, spooky edge.

Here’s how I hitchhike. I come across an organizing principle and pull a trigger or 2, replacing subject matter with source phenomena, exploring only some musts: structure, acquisition, re-entanglement, mixed media — no Eros in ideas, room for the best except pure uncertainty. 
 
One who hitches has no right to speak other than excellently. Self-conflict and compromise keep coming up as rich bases for ironic pleasure and sonorous failure. If that’s allowed.  
 
Primitive patterns and blue throats, crowbars taped to a tree, in the distance, Eroica...  
 
We haven’t been far away — the fields are twenty, chips are foam, our clothes thrown,  
 
The great We of fish, that’s what I say on a sea plane worked into the sky

Voices in funnels, a trickle down of their futurity, 
Dropping your sights — now rising  
— the fastest way to earn points. & yet  
We’re surrounded —  
I write poems for children, your progeny  
Forward a debit resonance disproving their successors —   
 
We’re effects their voices bell without words.   
 
Make a difference,  
 
Steal the steep treasure,  
Baby Wateau vanishes 
& the cake sale fails — vanished out of memory & sight as I am now.

Lots of us are gifts  
and land across our example   
while we watch the wind taken   
that the waves under you lift   
Tho see-thru as doves   
which today are nothing more,   
swept with a visual certainty   
no matter how we change in love.

Yoga is as popular as use of strength is everywhere, definitely in bed. It’s nearly in your mind — part histories of the universe. We sneaked his junk across the border just to release our frustration, verbally sneering in a natural voice..   
 
*  
  Advice to a would-be gymnast (badly misnamed): just be simultaneous.

We just saw (a few feet minutes from now, however) 
your address changed. We could have done it differently before  
you discovered the abuser charts; the parent company was yours before you took over.  
 
You’re not going to be delirious are you? 
Just for a stretch of language... good for you  
taking me from sleep where I rewrite chain letters you refuse to answer...   
 
Good for you! 
The question of blood flow takes more living
rising or not to non occasions w/ pretty good yoga probabilities
tho thorough life study is more shaped by diacritical time taking
steps to parse one’s appetite and hostility..

There are quite a few junctures

for incorrigible voice matter is always interesting:
& moving
while nobody wins in a debate over non and not dissemblance.

Denis the Menace grew a pair this summer. I now have a boyfriend. We’re in love, we’re out of it, we’re trying to run each other over in a slow sweep, and it continues, since I’m first and last bored with superordination and thought about having chapter delineations.. just paragraph breaks. Just so, the sky collides in the air, a hue of golf balls. 

That color discontinued, for historical justice.   
Days are broken into first seasons separated by sensual regions.  
Our supply chain deals fatalism as an element of allegory   
shaping and twisting regions of all desire, except a ready   
-made means to change Denis or the day supplier feeding us collisions. 

Every cent in Bank of America is fungible.

But not in all cases. This brings on what works mostly. Life is short and good investment prospects drive you all over. Recent example, no longer victims,  you and I grabbed the momentary offer as a ladder we shouldn’t overuse — 
A moment to stare out the window, a lamp over our shoulders to herald the swindle in American wind farming.

Too excellent but passing a concern: 
IF we have an idea to process this or any idea into text or artifact, subject to analysis, THEN how does the text or artifact change ways of analyzing the transactional process among others? Does the result generate inquiry into both (a) how, when, why subjects of analysis came about and (b) any utility of further venture or adaptation?

The sky collides in the air, a hue of golf balls. 
That color was discontinued, for historical justice.   
Days are broken into first seasons separated by sensual regions.  
Our supply chain deals fatalism as an element of allegory   
shaping and twisting regions of all desire, except a ready   
-made means to change the day supplier feeding us collisions. 

Since you brought a pizza —
What about these machinations to effect scandal involving Oedipus because-you-say-so and human sociopaths to raise your own slave-owner stature, fabulously?

That aside —
There is no name then it’s absence and torment. A middle man’s life is built around sane choices w/ the common sense of a median sort of person, even though in a few seconds, I’m in memory * of that person to come. Haw. 

That a fact?   Some don’t hear clearly when one’s “voice” joins others’ to deepen ultimately anonymous expressions of desire. (* The memory part is mostly vice versa.) We’ve been holding our tongues. That’s how it works.  Non-interference in charge, under which an authentic kindergarten, bourgeois language, genetic dance and multiple charades get raised and quest is forcibly asserted. Working against deadline shaped the last phase of withdrawal from our deadlock with future attributes. Oedipus meantime, our founder, targeted a fan like me because of ageless obligations to familial platitude. O’s camouflage in plain view, the better part of stiff winds over centuries-old middle ground.

I forget ephemerality, I forget narrative. 
I’m drunk on the environment;  
 

I’m a working temp, a role promised Hermes that threw him over the cliff.      
 
A perfect station plays Schubert for a kettle of heavenly fury,   
searing, puffy, relaxed and succinct.     
 
Angel, let’s run some #’s.     
 
To pass out when we wake is ample.      
 
I’m at your side placing puts   
on the periodic table, a rising market in wanting you (I do).   
I forget farewells.

Mr Howard Schultz, Mr Steve Schmidt —
Can we manufacture imperfection?
Maybe it’s worth a try.
Not being a billionaire makes maybe a counterfeit distinction.
Or maybe this hurts me more than you.

I remember those breasts.. 

A geometry that respects the brain, 


Fred Astaire kind of shit. 
When I win, I’m 

Drifting toward us, 
It’s a back-drift 

Under your blanket. I’m 

Over you now. I’m half-awake 


Falling asleep in the speaker’s presence. 


It’s deeper than that really.

Mr Peanut twisted once again to look up. I hadn’t expected it. On the other hand, what choice did he have?

He called the universe a positive word. 
 
Reading and living are continuous variables 
That ontologically under-simulate his ten senses.  
He should be furious w/ the authentic world w/ dogfood boxes. Be  
Angry at literal keyholes, too, w/ their conservative  
Counterviews to earnest alignment as his new parts pull up  
A parallel prowess of floating unquietly  
Into apothegms, into sidesteps of fine voice,  
“A voice and nothing more.”

Reeves has a libido viewable within Buddha construction 
From a cabin for paired centrists, a flight down,  
 
A perimeter of memory foam and asphalt when Buddha’s metamorphoses are active.  
In plain verse we round this off in latinate stencils for amnesia’s fixed width.  
Spirals discharge. Reeves was great, shaken tame.

No foes, no spite — 
Sing: Pigeons pattern heaven where detachment cut back! Getting 
To there uproots the photon series, exalted then stiffened into parody.. 

Reminding my love of a few contingencies we picked up from a tray 
Of bright boomerangs that tantalize in the feasible, wanting nil and showing 
What go around and come around, left to their own desires and systems.

Why tonight?  
 
My day jewelry drove down surface tension and gave us enough balls to take off and run.  
No jurisdiction encumbers where we hurt — 
Show me holding the moment once.   
 
Once and be done.

To chide its beauty has to be done but it’s too one-sided. 
It seemed artificially important  
The screech then was spherical.   
A seagull.  Now 
No one’s there.     
 
I missed it.

Each year corrupts the interference ultra-field. The elders have rules. Stay funny and
comfortable is one.
Another is also fancy, more or less fun. Insert / handkerchief.
Shave twice a week. Does your dad look happy never to see you in the eyes of men?

What can we do without sleeping around in our active subculture?

Last, best, fair in gay love. I wanted to ask you about immaculate being, rondure and going out. /
According to slung
Allegory, it’s called Stepping Up, Giving Ourselves, Keeping Ourselves.

Let me grab a pen and clamber over here to the landmark network... you’re right, this isn’t the window for me.  Before the heat dies, if ever, I’ll try praying in all directions, improving parallel math skills for our window cleaners’ carnal satisfaction as we pivot from top panes to a ringing merger of gripping madness.

The 10 polisciences exist. Do tell. So ours is a great America. Can we go for a ride?
Btw, we got here on big feet.
That’s what it feels like or sounds like, not always is.

So it’s no. Also, you know what .. we just can’t do enough. Sleeping 26 hours would be a flaw in my socialist secession. It’s a sorry concentrate: Until we went broke we were indebted.
Now an international scale opposes the light in our constitution. Analysis is scary-loud,
yet there are comic possibilities as federalist dreams itch to colonize.

I feel socialist. Validating market snapshots, optimizing
The practical center
More than any single system,

A huge agnostic discipline
About attitudes behind morals.

You know this open and shut —
Take it down / or thumb thru

The balance left over. Inhabit the brim

To the point you realize
We know now – now less than nothing, which exists practically.

My best friend is my most erotic partner. It’s a corporation
...nothing to do w/ simplicity.
His music brokerage remains in aerospace
W/in no sound
Where there is none
Other than this last one.
No other devices for years.

The more I say this the closer it gets.

It’s a misunderstanding of gym etiquette but it gets you ashore with one* shoe in hand, mine.
I’ll find you.

*that one shoe = 2 I stole from you.

Colder rain or snow has had a profile that can only be screwed up during dry spells.
Either form is widely construed as partially audible, plundering suspicion within either’s asymmetry.

Rain or snow, the great work cuts straight through restructure, mistreating more remakes and models to abandon.

Either or they all do. Precipitation becomes a shadow soundtrack beyond logic. Tattooing condensation midair — epic sums up the thruway and instrumentation when you have glimpses of it.

Since you brought a pizza —
What about these machinations to effect scandal involving because-you-say-so and human sociopaths to raise your own slave-owner stature, fabulously?

That aside —

You & I wonder about summer’s eternal 
possessions, the buds, shade & a day if we could see 
staying chaste .. it’s on the house.  
Feels great out ahead until there’s a threshold.   
 
In those same terms there’s too hot  
a reliance on eking a living making out   
Optimizing the center where death dies.  
It will take more than a single changing course  
to snatch life from time, breathing it in & out if we could see. 

We like newness in a way and reallocation schemes when both of us leave stroke marks. Like
how I graduated from this shame of yours and mine, this pride

in the battle between the sexes. (The rich won.)

Can you place our names? I row a canoe for the alter-ego, frequent asides and decorative indeterminacy.

With full employment, I got to anticipating mind control as disingenuous.

Substitute snow falls like sea foam over snow.

Read the inspection label. To continue, asymmetry solves perfection.

Snow lists a mood replaced as the driveway met you. (You’ll always be dad’s inside, animals looking at you.)

You don’t get to snooze.
Snow is a collective meme that takes its singular form learning to drive.

Top achievement.
There is a nothing. Yet nothing is forbidden.
Or a burst of daft tone substitutes for a lifetime.
I lower your voice to closest approximate parity.
Somewhere, who’s a sociopath?

Top finalists have quit general practice.

Compassion.
I can talk to your teachers. I can debate them.
I can’t reason with you. I can’t even talk to you. Why?

A question of blood flow takes 8 lives
rising to any occasion w/ pretty good yoga probabilities
tho thorough life study is more shaped by diacritical time while taking
steps w/in unruly aplomb (to parse taste and hostility).

There are few junctures

for incorrigible voice matter is always interesting:
& moving
while Nobody wins in a debate over no and not distinctions.

There was a boom in robots once.  
It all came about back in 1st or 2nd grade.  
And if you invest now, daylight garners you  
several that breathe, toting examples of published cook  
-book ontologies, whatever they got alleged. Memory has it we  don’t have brains duly assuaged to enumerate their open peace 
next to sleeping citizens staring through ice.   
 
Is this bluff for real? one asked with good reason  
before the ice scissored out higher grade markers.

You may have noticed I write over your first-born face, a kind of praise, 
fuzzy & lovely fragrance of rose nosing you out but choosing you 
of many then forwarding you as backdrop for a dear heart who’s new.

My area is interpretive search with a no-go theorem to tackle the Alabama paradox.

It’s been a while, Sophocles wrote. 
I’ll assume you suspect I know you know it’s in the literature.  Written or not, nothing is forgotten.

Heavy-lidded, an escort’s sensibility (as if I know any —

Any rule violates sovereignty. This speech pattern has been expanding without genetic engineering.
The polls are now tightening.

Your proof is the topic sunpoisoning you can take indoors to vote for anyone with no experience. Try.
Give it a chance until late afternoon. Even interrupted our conversation never ends — for
You. You’ll be taken up on your offer.

Your mellowness operates transferrable accounts.

As it were. Yet it’s shameful to work for the state. How did Paulo Freire alone stand, pause and brush back his hair? others like him looking up like flight risks?
To keep going we find little or no compromise.
The music seems headstrong but we’ll give you a call.

“Great ... but I’ll just hold...”

Monkish antinomy dawns on me once 
Before blasted onward; discourse & chaos go hand in hand, utterly psychic as we are  
— having seen it, married it earlier.  
& I don’t mind if I look worn or beaten up. I’m wearing  
 
My love as a fever costume, stretched black poplin, black as hell in a trance.

A white lie calibrated by the ruckus-like paean spoken (rather than speaking) in a large-scale dialectic —

battery powered to sow more male seduction / technology / outreach where all the jazz wears off.
We came herein with what falsehoods we picked up earlier, and we sank together deliberately mismatched, yet we were ignited around the finger tips by deep compatibility. Vibrating skin, excitement for the best fibbers to the youngest, abstracted as figures of speech, savants, godsends.

Clark Coolidge’s The Circus reviewed, along with Poet, by J. P. Dunagan at Rain Taxi.

The Circus available here. Clark Coolidge’s The Circus reviewed, along with Poet, by J. P. Dunagan at Rain Taxi.

The Circus available here.

Secure oases cannot be considered in terms other than liberal;  with great laughter impelling knowing, not knowing, comfortable indeterminacy.  A given. Someday.

I am confused, 
claimant of the photogenic vitamin to stop bleeding  
is not a complete thought, lacking resolution, useless but still settling in  
meaning in a way — a rain then raincoats of moods shifting, one’s thank you for pastimes as warm-bodied as visually queuing up for everything.   
 
It ran in families.  
 
So you get it now, assigning completion to our species becoming cathartic  
is no-yes, always vending graft over dualism  
with hand and finger gestures where we get caught chipping away at how we can stop.

What’s this eyebrow to?  Eyebrows pile up like the snow of socks after a sit-down inside the capitol.

Creature masks are prerequisites, in reprieve at the School of Nobody;  
Teaching can’t be taught. You live within practice  
 
To engage another’s psyche.  
You’re always wrong — to prolong your appeal. 

On a highway, gentle police lights
— Luxury vans flow in aid. Further uphill
Hauling “rays of light that seethe patently” — Stolen beauty ...& he gives!
(He can afford it.)

A ray’s lip, your biting lip, curls in his record performance /
Your opinion or position counts, a worthy argument
Made easier — you take the wheel,
Officer. I’ll hand it to you & have your way —

Then thank him —
There’s due process replicating our facial
Comfort in raw push-pulls ..

Touching on other behavior in a wily, rough
Translation .. (desultorily sexual) while you read on, reread
Brutality extending just to your cheek by jowl for the last call;
More intuition — “rhymed” with your near-virginity beneath your bodily

Disappearing into
Molecular
Effects.

Piano strings! precise and going no- 

                    where  
 

floating up nervous laughter  
 
.. an octopus taken more than once a day.  

Minutes after your work can be filed ..  
if there’s ‘work’ to ‘file.’  
Or will we be going anywhere?   
 
It seems like anywhere unless you know where you are .. 
just praying ..

Publicity is the soul of justice. 
That’s a great question.

The effect is real. Real enough 
to be defined consistently. 
 
Errant is not mistaken for arbitrary. Form follows structure. 
In a way nothing’s for keeps. 
2 spiral arrays for time & harmony within a philosophy (moving spatial dimensions) several hours forward.  
 
Nothing’s inference, compressed form:
a ‘crown’ of contradictions veer dimensional rhetoric —  
 
Can waving time like a moony branch  
supersede nature,  
 
a piece of research asks. It’s asking a lot. Why open  
atoms under quivers at the edge to sleep?

Love, A cool looking problem solver, a Japanese statistician, slow-motioned to me to go for the moody and unexpected.
Doesn’t it freak you when categories are givens you don’t need to work out on your own? Some of you has given in to optimism— there you go, retreating to emancipating intimacy, more and more sound-oriented than bent on millennial dance.

And that reminds me, great sex is immediate, overwhelming, terse and of a Castilian order. A hundred decors contained in one = you at the piano. The dive floats with George Balanchine stand-ins.

There’s a term for attrition of affects, eyesore.

And there’s a hypertonic struggle to housesit too much information. You know it exists. Bad antecedents. Human body fat jumps, worth $100,000 a gallon.
This is the good gold.

A life is charged for care. I’m otherwise a coffee head! But no more, let’s pare it down.

Have we ever done anything but tamper with the weather? Oh, who knows? Oh, Ladytron. You seem so fake-excited in the sprayed periphery, staying in balance inside a soft radical vapor of bigness that’s quashed.