Everyone Is Busy

Everyone is busy doing the unlikables. Just barely mentioning the places on the body stung by a routine neglect. Everyone parses logic hovering around vacations as though that were all of the relief available. Vacations thus expected to remove the heat of an abuse as common as a weekday, have it surgically removed or redirected. Everyone is working late at plotting the escape, with the equation yet atop the mantel. Everyone is busy being interesting to people who cannot discern that no one is, it's just the marketplace being its sexy, hard-to-get self, on account of all the frenzy of the takers. Everyone is piecemealing around among the leavings of the other everyones in hope of bringing accidental royalty by virtue of a spontaneous, deep-seated justice. Everyone partakes of the identicality of butterflies and frozen syrup in twin columns. Everyone is "fixing" to go home if they can figure where that is, knowing that it has to be decided once and have that be for all.

Breast feeding versus the bottle, process in relation to its outcomes, formidable-appearing patterns that might furnish happiness, despite the record showing facts placed in a row

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Sheila E. Murphy | Not Just a Leaflet
Contents | Mudlark No. 8