i sit framed upon the wall but i've never felt an artist's scrawl i don't reflect, i'm not a clock-- i help you think outside the box.

In the forest's shade, umbrellas of flavor rise, a kingdom of fungi beneath the skies. They disguise themselves as caps, a culinary treasure that grows where light naps.

Push perforations? Put pugilist prone? Pause productivity? Prepare parachute? Party potable, poof - peace!

A deep trench slipped between two crags A dark shaft that baits a hopeless mind. Giggity.

Three: six to a pack, crunch to compress Three more: shape of the eye, where wizards obsess Swallow up whole, or wholly posess