There flies the stinging rebuke. Buzzing and humming with expression.

Not annoyed or toying. Rather a disjointed configuration of physics of beating wings and communication.

Letting the fellow sit for a second, his abdomen fat and waiting; in search of something and realization.

Today a bull snake, and then raven and then, and then, fatigue.

*

yes, Thor was in good spirits. walking upon success to scatter important pieces; smiling little bastard… No testicles and yet full of male bull headed outlets of visual acuity filled with mirrored reflections.

*

What is it like to ‘like’ and be in both camps while dancing with a fire between?

Ice cold. Veins filled with stone cooled from molten passions

then…

hot burning skin, is this then, the reason?4

*

i understand fully as he flies among the laser focus.,,,, so round, so vibrant. Clean. A dancing sensation.

*

A poem maybe would be better though the flying buzzing cannot comprehend as he can only sing words alien to him.

Ahh…yes. A flower. Nectar sweet and a nest.(pause) His voice demanded attention. A ladder. A screen of manipulation. Much laughter. Now he flies his path of exploration

****

Muuuuch better. Listening to some criminals dying in a courtroom demonic frustration. A red button resets the equation.

Did i forget already what he said as he stood proud on the arm?

Never. Better to concentrate on the rest. Feeling so much better. Alive. Awake. Even a bit of a piece of peaceful..