Apropos for stationary insanity,
you hear that comes in a way of triwling.
I am your friend.
Brighten goose gabble streamlined imperium,
tackling a fastidious and notable chair,
crash down the chair foes,
splinter of wood in groundskin,
ground taper flying splinters are shards,
toothpicks, willing outburst in the detritus of mother nature.
Like a protest.
Like a protest they fly through,
like a Google sweepstake panorama,
across deserts and mountains and oceans,
those havens of generality and all-forgiving mothers to creation,
and the plywood makeshift batton explodes on impact with the transparent riot shield,
the meeting of nature and nurture,
a gruelling endeavor to drive each other into and beyond the precipice.
Seeing the abuses,
leveled up in arrogant impiety to the cruel wielders of power,
taking batton in hand,
refusing to heed the words of his comrades
who cowered together
in an outflanked huddle,
his objective was simple:
to crack the helmet of military police officer 69041.