This bit of prose is another entry in my Frequently Strange series, except that it is built upon entries 4 - 9. One could look at it as a meta-analysis of those works.
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Barks from the wandering dog are the skin of the trees, allowing the pristine glistening snow to be alive when So many Bodacious Babbling baboons discombobulated the raging river seekers.
500 fuzzy caterpillars became a multi-colored troupe of flying flowers, living only as the volume increases infinitely, shattering all in the way.
Bones inside fingers know the gurgling throat grabbers full attention and In the faint distance noiseless suns reveal a hidden song
Secretly staring down every barrel when the grinder kept working on the last nerve, with your snow shoes on. When A group of people you've known so long without names exchange exhausted revealing glances.
Sneaking suspicions haphazardly make their way to the end of the road as the wind howled, rattling the peeling window panes. Every time around the three thousand toes don't quite touch the ground, surprised at knowing, then orbiting again.
The known facets fade when the meticulous mind shifts, showing exasperated vapors when remembering the quality of how the whispering walls felt. Regardless of the implications the strength of the vibration between the celestial entities of our eyes cannot be denied.
Beneath their chins fumbling ferociously for the last scraps of dawn's emancipation they received a final visitation.
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Barks from the wandering dog are the skin of the trees, allowing the pristine glistening snow to be alive when So many Bodacious Babbling baboons discombobulated the raging river seekers.
500 fuzzy caterpillars became a multi-colored troupe of flying flowers, living only as the volume increases infinitely, shattering all in the way.
Bones inside fingers know the gurgling throat grabbers full attention and In the faint distance noiseless suns reveal a hidden song
Secretly staring down every barrel when the grinder kept working on the last nerve, with your snow shoes on. When A group of people you've known so long without names exchange exhausted revealing glances.
Sneaking suspicions haphazardly make their way to the end of the road as the wind howled, rattling the peeling window panes. Every time around the three thousand toes don't quite touch the ground, surprised at knowing, then orbiting again.
The known facets fade when the meticulous mind shifts, showing exasperated vapors when remembering the quality of how the whispering walls felt. Regardless of the implications the strength of the vibration between the celestial entities of our eyes cannot be denied.
Beneath their chins fumbling ferociously for the last scraps of dawn's emancipation they received a final visitation.
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