The other were words around kite flying and being adapted to the art of being a slave,poked into this was the one word Roman;i have lumbered over this one word mostly chewing over thought waves..is it better to be a Roman than a seeker of golden bubbles.
I thought that being a slave would be easy..swish, swish, wack, wack,the hump of flowing sperm and all would be sunlight on the beach,however i forgot about the one who holds the kite strings,or simply did not wonder too hard how the kite strings would be pulled.
The choice between a Roman and a golden bubble is not easy;the golden bubble is so very easy to obtain and so very cheap,the cork pops the liquid flows and what was in the forefront of my mind at the time of the oomph, sails into tomorrow with out much thought,nostalgia,golden memories, sail into the blue skies without such a bite from any loose clouds on the horizon.
I know choosing Roman will unleash beasts crowded in the colour brown flaked with the tinge of freckles green cascaded into streams of yellow clothed in furry beasts that roam the land in such of golden bubbles.I have much to do;two areogrames lay blank i can see them now just sat there..;my shells from the beach have still not been not washed only surfaced thoughts from golden bubbles evaporating over the contours.
i have been instructed to night to close the golden bubbles in a happy jolly mood and not to sink down into melancholy madness...so be it.....
