series1bk3.5.1

 

Inured to the drab rags of diurnal tedium,  I greedily flight my sight from a fleeting keyhole to treat my vision with feathered hats, and pendent medals, glittering glory on beribboned breasts. My testicles ache with unslaked yearning to spew the bloated congestion in a blocked gut to such explosive height that rocket clusters will bust open as beckoning beacons in the sky. A frightening intensity, pillared like a waterspout, swirls all whirling trivia into trumpet shape, cramped in a cranium aflame - if unfulfilled - with willing, galvanizing aspiration.      Then like a planet with a molten core,      I'll sprout with foliage for evermore.