Last night's rain fell into jarred monkey brains. This morning's flowering hands accelerate the mind and the grieving process.
The robot and the broken nucleus of his battery element cure can demonstrate anger physically—its signals render you mentally unwell and unfit to talk, incapable of articulating thoughts. Your mouth fills with treachery.
I had never had covid yet,
but the quarter and change I got back from the self-checkout kiosk at CVS
definitely had a virus on them. That is how I caught the flu this year. So that
was last Saturday night. I felt bad Sunday, but I was wearing a mask when I left the
house Monday morning—I noticed it was gone when I woke up feeling bad on the
bus and the bus pulled up to the train station downtown, which is nowhere near
where I normally go. I probably had a high fever, but I was so parched that I
doubt I was spraying many droplets of infection or anything else if you know
what I mean. I suddenly found myself on the wrong train and wearing a mask that
was definitely not mine. I got off at the next stop and was accosted by all
these females that live around there I guess. They were advertising drugs. Not
one of those ladies had my mask, too.
