"The clouds, ancient battlegrounds of laughter, folded into the confines of plaid shorts, whispered truths too soft for day."
"Do fish pass this way after peeling berries miniaturist parties that unearth dismay?"
a(drifting irony coated in sea salt)--> May we ponder: what exact shade of sarcasm does Neptune paint his underwater ballroom a mix with septic algebra?
"Is tomorrow dressed in rainbow swirls or clad in bureaucratic grey?”