The wackiest debacle of spoof-esque and entirely haphazard manipulation is profound and wholly visible whilst seeing tradition being drowned and beaten oh so violently at the many spindle-thread-thin hands of progress.
Unknown etymologies spring into the air then fall approximately six-feet down and initiate rearward propellers and jets that're (in place of a better single word) one after another, in order to breathe.
And I learn
And I learn
And I learn
I appropriate and accumulate, store and enunciate, words that contemplate at any rate and though this senseless, nonsensical, principle poetry does destroy me by poison or curse or by noisy disperse, I continue to spite and despite my deriding exciting writing for those and they who've no forte or way nor say for both the beauty and ugliness of language and textual perfection.