I have entered the fifth digit. That no one can escape. Nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine plus one equals ten thousand. 8/26/3 TEN THOUSANDTH LIFE DAY. 10,000=9,999+1
While on my trip to Puerto Rico 8/25-28/3 with Captain Mike and the Jolly Roger.
“Juan Run-On”
Green hills with brown trails surrounds-ice trays filled with floating tooth picks-sway in front of the quick light flash like it was attached in front of the shocking sound-rolls down from around the town Puerto Rico calls Cieba.
Jolly Roger bobs with Mike and Mr. Welch while Jack Daniels plans on playing throughout the day-with any and every birds wings-bent on getting bent while soaring some still snoring so early this morning-because life’s not easy when one’s bleaching red eyes sent from a brute blue box which keeps the waves away by blocking differing refracted UV’s off of la casa de Neptune-provides a tied tuna towed to the cutting board partitioned into pieces served sushimi style to civilian scavengers licking blood because barracudas seem smile while consuming the same.
See, I’m single soul sailing in my ten thousandth life day searching for sea stories-running from my anenomies to la aqua-always breached by great whites hungry for small bites of someone’s cutoff ear lacked of an SPF-cause cancerous causing agents are always near-seis hombres y una senora miran as the big blue four wheeled magic carpet carries the cocky kid’s catamaran up-into crystal clear currents of wind-blows passes hatches like dolphins wandering in the water’s wake-on the bad ass Buddy Davis and others have our backs-way back among the clouds cirrus, nimbus, and cumulus powder puff like clowns-so close sixty thousand years won’t pass the red planet by the third rock, bye-bye, again.
The party we bring on blocks, stilts, and poles- props are people that wait to twist in purgatory’s prison-opting open ocean’s only opinion, for all the ladies them-Puerto de Ray’s departemento de mantenimento click, clack, smack, grind, and wax while working-wonder women walk without worrying what’s wrong with vagina’s-have all the power occasionally goes out se vende-for sail on the cesna back to St. Croix free style falling for free feeling from the sky-is so blue I’m so high my mind’s eye seeks truth in interpretations it tell to you-tu comprendes what realm has been revealed-through what readers read-repeatador try again-I have perceptions of reality you can’t comprehend.
