Creamy Life

Dianne the Man. I want to work on a farm. Nothing is better thasn life. Living hard with a big bundle of sacks in my arms. Living into the night, living into tomorrow. Having enormous bowel surges. Leaking pouring rumbling, extracting bountiful gut reaping wrenches. Singing lofts of hay burping cursing shitting bawling wailing eating. I am harmonious. The level divider, the wind, hooping screening, liquid factions days living hording. I bounce off grass into little eaters' eyes legs winding up cracking down, simple arms careening caressing lifting pushing through the sphincter elevating bursting barfing relaxing enjoying. I impale Science Graves. Laughing doctoring careering. I implore beginners, exacters, deciders. I excel through waters, fibers, nitrogen, respiratory bacteria, detritus fungus, juicy plantae. I demand roads, agriculture, beans, artifacts, reactions, revolutions, betrayers, solo artists. Omniscient clock bugs worms stars sun warm dry, omnipresent human tool carry hold follow derail unbroke help impart defect infect perfect delicious.