I'm here, and fine. With perfect crystal clear clarity A grounding rush. Three clicz instead of two.
I wonder what decides the direction Satellites go. The other day I Thought I saw STEVE. It was A circus(!) in the downs, derigging, eventually,
But first I thought the two lights resembled aliens. We needed an invasion, the purple mirage And the emerald laser provided.
Unknown roaring. It used to be you could Look up at the stars and not see satellites. Barbed wire around our planet, Taking pictures of us.
Smoke, and unknown roaring. Thank you ancestors For the circulatory issue that makes my fingers so cold all the time. Great work. Well, industry polluted our spaces And made us grumpy to all advertising. We should accept Only the grabbiest win, that's how it works. I just wish they were artefacts of happy feelings Instead, but we will make the descendants who thank us.