Scat

I am become death. 2nd day DOMs after my first workout with weights for months and still hit the treadmill for half an hour. I’ve dropped 23 lbs in less than three weeks. I’m hungover and behind on classwork. And i’ve already been had in someone’s April Fool’s day shenanigans.

But i’m not jaded. I’m not worried. Events occur, things are occurred toward. You and I are occurred toward. Any paths we take, we could not have not taken.

So many rules define this and all other spaces. No rules exist. Black and white, right and wrong, up and down. Its all so murky and we’ve only one act to comprehend it. Dig it?

Is this rap or free form jazz? My meter’s alright, but the concept appears so non sequitor and roundabout, not unlike those sidewinders beneath the horizon of your eye whose existence stands as a great affront to your will. They’re smiling. They’ll speak to you. It’ll take time to get away. And if you do it- and that means enduring it totally- you’ll realize one of two things: You hate them because they are different or you like them because they are different.

Can I mix ginger ale, riesling, and canadian club?

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