Anticipatory sounds and analgesic agents adoringly adjust our society to be precipatory in the same way a pronoun refers to its antecedant.
Seemingly, the sour patch kids we all were raised to love are just about as sweet as one can be.
This world is full of conundrums. Shall we solve them?
Riddle me right. Riddle me wrong. Riddle me gifted. Riddle me long. Help me find passion. Blind me from lust. Sprinkle me with some magic pixie dust.
You looking to get magical? Down to transmoglify? How about amalgamate? Would you prefer to apparate? Time travel? Transform? Be reborn? Grow a pearly horn? I cast a spell on you. It said you were gullible.
All you people, reading, deeding, seeding, impeding, I got a question for you! What are you goals? Do you bare your soul? Have you dug a hole? Climbed a pole? Played multiple roles? Shoveled coal? Deal what I have dole? I don’t think so.
Therefore, I ask of you to eat a pear and ride a Moose. You are wise and wisdom comes when you let your mind go run. Let it soar. Spread its wings. Let it reverberate and sing. Watch it as it grows in size. The stars allign just to collide.
Fight. Flight. Feast. Fornicate. These are primal functions. Expand your consciousness. Get lost in a forest. Bang a gong. Smack a drum. Walk in a circle.
Stick out your thumb. Have some fun. Hitch a ride to blissful pride. Retrace your steps and place your bets.
For now, we thrive in overdrive.