Sell cormorant high. The docile have eaten their weight in gold. In my bird costume. The ocean's defunct. The neoplasms come in on half-shells.
Every portfolio has a tapeworm.
Outside this reticulum, I love myself. Desert Oblique A convection of voices. I mime their desert in my foxhole. Mindful of my schematics, my electrical grid. Sun to make the voices diverge and swell.