Byline: Magic Imagination

Buford Youthward

Disaffection versus delight when making magic or melodies.

The bit kicks in just as you choke up. It sometimes happens while having a genuine looking back session.

Stupid stuff gets said all the time in dank places. Letting a club owner know, I don't play for PBR. And the cats I hang with generate capital like you don't know.

Bitter cheap lager offers and opportunities aside, I still make due with what I got. My cause is just and just about right.

So I riot on despite economic emasculation for the masses. Here, here. Make way.

All the drama brings nothing but cold heart stings. So sting all you stingers and trigger fits worthy of jitter twists.

It's the least you can do with any dignity.

Elegance, elation, exaltation feels real good until a rain of red hot stones blows up in the shop today.

Remember if you are the recipient of blind copy messages, you may also be blindsided.

Devious, mischievous, I carry on with a mission wished accomplished. Try to get the lesson published. Then let the sun set.

I don't know if I can believe in a government that says you're making too much and need to donate some service to subsidize the servants.

The argument always comes down to dollars and sense. But you know just as I that sensation trumps cents.

To the feast we banquet, the treasure vanquished, I'm watching while you rape your motivation.

Me? I sit idle, idling, whiling with wine.

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