the ticker-tape’s spitting,
just about now.
Annnnnnnnnnd, the diagnosis is in.
Seems that all my problems come down to the fact that I share neurochemistry with that of a grape,
and since I don’t spend my days lounging in seasonal sunlight,
well… the results are unsatisfactory.
picking up on the even numbers of things,
the division of problems to single act, cascading, though singular, consequence.
honestly I’ve had the phrase elucidated echoes bumbling around in my head all day,
and I can’t seem to craft a context that isn’t contrived,
but the meaning is enough to ensnare,
so:
elucidated echoes.
refractions that explain themselves in old formal professorial caps with pointers and chalk coated hands.
but, like always, I’ve fallen asleep in the lecture,
and my parser is on the fritz,
which is why I stand on standby next to ticker-tape printing electron doctors,
who have told me I have neurochemical problems shared by sentient grapes.
They told me, that whatever I do,
I shouldn’t wine.
