Conditioned preference for narrative condemns millions to sleep.
Nothing but words in a row. Grammar modifies Prosody.
Punctuation marks divide. Syntax engenders meaning.
You only think you can control your pen. Exercise.
Tell you a story:
Remove staples before eating pizza. Stop Continental Drift.
Insist on your birthright of way. Specific smell of chalk.
Wobbling on 10 speed toward solar array. One sun; one broom.
Killed father and went down to the crossroads. Oh, mamma.
Gnosis bunker uncovered in old Runes. Treat stares with caution.
Don't point that Tuba this way! Wounded buffalo roam Iowa.
Green parrots chatter in back yards. Herd of helicopters.
Nips up! A Japanese morning. Pointing the way. Go figure.
Strains to a dropping deuce. Red wheelbarrow, full of sadness.
Fake work and all pray makes a dead Jack off. Harder.
All old cowboys must dismount eventually. This space for sale.
You tell a story back.
Make it good. So many choices. Not sleepy at all. Go on.
Remember. Readers as ghost writers. Ghost writers in the lie.
How many tales can you eke out of this? Spell me please.
Take responsibility for the narrative you create. Good luck!
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