Procastination

      My mind hosts a mountain pile of unsorted information. I am with ambition, but without direction. When feeling tempted to comment, a non-contributor of life should just desist. The fat in my thighs need to be reduced. A UFO zooms by outside the window. Bee maybe. Twang twang twang. Vrmmmmmmm…. goes the grass cutter.

An upright strip of tissue quivers in the wind blown from a table fan standing on the floor.

A company vehicle parked before an obscured roundabout.

The culprit. I desist from commenting on his stupid grin.

Banging my head to this.

And this.

Okay this is ridiculous. I’m procrastinating.

Time to grade heavily plagiarized English essays.

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