robinbloke | (no subject)

Cotton swabs in small caramel coated peashanks. Thrown aside on a whim at least, not before the topsy turvey lane of the mind crawled past. "Hail me a scooter" it said. Then turned to the door. Eyes opened and spoke softly, lashes in motion like pearly whites. No stars held in the black depths of the gaze, just a taste of an eon finely sliced onto toast. Hot plated for easy reheat. The ring pull discarded like a memory of a former less PC era. It didn't wait for the lights to change, no, it just opened the curtains and flew, feathers flying around it as the great blue opened up before it. A tablecloth over the lands below, rimples and dimples fanning the mountains below as the clouds forced marshmallows into my nose. Sick with the sweeteners I fell, spirals calling me to the haystack that waited, needle carefully hideen in a probability to great to call my own. I couldn't see the sign of the bardoor before me, but it was there. The planks all arrayed military fashion down by down, two by two. What was the question that lay beyond the yaw of the open furnace?
I closed my eyes and let it flow.