It was the sense of haplessness, the recover Bot parodied to the still formless seconds that replay from a informative, crimson bellow. The introduction came as in ridiculed gesture, a hidden dogma, the truly amassed project to recovery time, you had to laugh, you had to be there. I can energetically predict in response to ridicule, the minor familiarity in hygiene to the suggested pun, arose from the extreme laughter by medicine, the sample to my ink-jet-replaced ilk; my styling of your manner, has me at the quizzical laugher. Replay my words to me of laughter, the crown, of taking down your pride, for i reside to this of you: the Bot with programme thereafter.
2019 Adam Blewett ©
Adam Blewett * 
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