the one project at a time plan (day 7)

Had it not been for an idea breakthrough that broke a door open last night, trepidation would rule this day.

But unless a snaky sneaky wrench crawls into the small window in the lavatory and in an unexpected second instantly turns into those kind of thighs that men dream of suffocating between and coerces the final surrender to what is always irresistible, unless something of that nature comes along, the day so far smells okay and maybe those temptations from yesterday, those partially dressed paragraphs gathered in the doorway, and I could not escape their come-hither scents but I did resist the terrible urge to look, and there sure were some huffs and extra swishes of garments.

But an idea came along and saved the day and it is yet strong and it strode straight into the holding chambers of partially-dressed, sassy and saucy, paragraphs, and I demanded they be treated not cruelly but simply made to understand some relational dynamic shifts are imperative in this season and they must simply study the concept of patience, and find ways to entertain themselves; as far as I could tell because I of course could not watch what that idea did to them but they have since refrained from their tempting pestering. And this was not at all what I was going to write.


About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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