whether

fateful fateful weather, whether surfing surf, the withered peels, peels of all dismantled huts, the stunning architecture, fills with wind, wind wind exterior laughs any, anyway, an inner ear serenity endures, but i hear trivial talk talk to to challenge us to, assess our limitations, i'll keep the sunscreen in mind, downward folding peaceful, a visitor, and temporary thoughts about my allergies, in order of importance and, free-wheeling dreams, blue gray firmly like all the toxic dust that lines the clouds, the angels spit down, the fences fall, the bridges crumble to letters, so that if i hear threatening words that force us all to sustain those positions i'll bring my whiskey along