Autocorrectionals

I was assigned a sanity rating at birth that does not compute. The birds don’t sing as much as they scream—a singer once sang that, and it was recorded—go and check. I’ve checked my packets, and all the seeds are missing, not even so much as a coating of seed dust. I ingested my ulterior motives and they are now the extra padding in my posterior. None of this has been pasteurized (or proof-read for that matter) and it’s been proven that dingoes occasionally will eat scabies. Hold on … something seems amiss with my autocorrect. Just keep holding there. I’ll be back.

What I’m Reading:

“The world I see looks to me like a game of children.
Strange performances and plays go on night and day.”

— Ghalib / “Some Exaggerations”