I went fishing

I went fishing last week with the naked-most of people. A turtle of a strange kind has appeared at the bottom and been reported in the New York Times, a respectable paper, a human enterprise of some possible standard that you and I are only dimly aware of but this thing or belief or strange grip on us in the society holds us captive. Some of us are literally captive.

Some of us are bitterly lactic acid in the muscle and fighting our way out of here. What will happen will happen and only a probability map with a probability compass can metaphor a metaphor four times in the head, three times in the ass, my penis my large and baby, cocoon and butterfly caterpillar little hairs of peach peach strawberry brown and green fuzz and burnt plant.

He was taking a line out of the water when a bang a boom a thrish thrash splash jump glitter color green white fast slow car bridge dead sploosh above below and over, blip a bleem and sky away forever and ever in here to the after and beyond. Why can’t a gay, a way, away, stay, that way Oh dear I have done something horribly terribly ever and over. I went away for a while Oh dear I think I have gone fishing again.

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