bucketlist

While riding my bicycle around the streets of Westdale I had an urge to go home and write a bucket list- with wheels and feet in motion I 180’d back to my pad… with a passion that makes my appetite satious I sink my teeth into rough texture and gorge myself to sweet heaven, hell and Springer- quickly I bloat sluggishly about tiresome, wasted, vanquished- a similar affect to weed lows- but tonight I toked a half j and almost as if David drew his slingshot and with mortal precision slayed goliath I too shot down a giant query. I MAKE ALL THE RIGHT DECISIONS WHILE HIGH AND LAZE ABOUT UNPRODUCTIVE AND UNDRIVEN WITH WHAT DAILY LIFE HAS IN STORE- fortunately I was in the zone ad after having turned around, I do once more after realizing that biking 10km every night is something that I set out to do

“I want to start biking 10km every night or as many as I can within reason”

I just drove over my brain terrain until it reached its compartment and stowed itself away- Now after correcting my all too common flaw of talking/writing without action I consider punching my penis while on my bike mind you, for forgetting the key point- living is doing!

I need to start more doing… because that was the reason for the bucket list in the first place… phewww. I could have said that easier but the morning spectator man pulled up to an adjacent house and like the ol’ saying goes “all paper men at smokers coughing blubbery tubs of regret and hate” he too fit that dear old abusive but genuine stereotype. I thought he was going to shoot me while hiding on the opposite side of the car so I ducked below the balconies railing hoping that there wasn’t already that all-ending red dot mapped out across my gracious and thankful neck that wants to nod hello to old friends, shake the no response to a child, and even motorboat an exquisite yet affordable set of hooters- all this flashes like a flash in my eyes from a Nikon f55 slr thinking that I had a 50/50 chance of which direction to slyfully maneuver my body out of the way from bullets harm and that’s not a bet I want to wager on- luckily the tub of man but have put his gun away, wheezing himself back to the driver’s side- never making eyes on me- but I smelt him intention a mile away.

I might sleep outside my house tonight- my house is similar to a sweaty named man sauna- minus the sweaty naked men but it is just as awkward and uncomfortable