If it were fluid for all of us to migrate to infinitude obstreporous locations then the geese would fall in the order they were brought into being. Those damn geese. Floor stepping is the stride we chose to digress sideways in different directions to move the mockery forwards then back. Why then why then why then is it that we twitch from the high voltage shock that we get from looking to the sky for our answers? I can only say e. Yes e. The bottle top is white. White is the way we should move. If the progression is towards the white then what is one to do with the tongue? The canister is blue and blue controls my life. It is one of those things that you feel you cannot live without but do not notice the importance of it until it runs dry. When it is dry then the neurol receptors tell you you have done overlooked the financial district and it needs repaired now! Now. Now. Red however, red calms. Red kills. But red makes the stomach feels better. I do not like the socket but I still have it. I have it and it will travel with me. For when I am in need of it. For there will be a time when I am in the dark cold biosphere and will be in dire need of that socket. The wetnap dances tirelessly upon my shoulder, mocking me. Telling me of its joys and dislikes in such a way that I have to shudder as I look out its window. no more starring out that window. I desire to wander but I cannot, I am stuck, wanderlusting, pacing, and thinking of cool breezes and comfortable hammers. That numbness that only comes from the yellow cereal bowl. You know the one. The one that smiles even when it is trapped in the jaws of the penguin. Knowing its existance is at stake, still smiling.  thank you Deasie Bopenster for knowing the existance and propogating feet that we may dangle from in hopes and desires that linger in the forfront of the hippocampus. for my toes are cold and my mind is wabbly I know that this song will pass and I will step out from behind the bales.