fruit n' sour jolly rancher

coca cola is decisive in my night because it really upholds a fine, razor tooth comb that i dance merrily upon. should i have diet? hmm. or regular? chasers or red wine? ill choose the latter. or was that ladder? to where? a grassy knoll upon which i wait for an apple to drop with a worm who says, " this is only a dream, travel my earthly, kindred soul, for i was where you sat before. " i laugh at his rings, judging him for his time on earth. "how did you begin? where did this start?" i've never seen a worm cry nor a prayer answered, but i am sure of both. answers ultimately are fused for explosion when sparrows sing in the fall. "does this make sense to you, sir?" he laughed. i had never seen a worm laugh. "i enjoyed coca cola whilst i was a youth, cry only tears of joy." 

i awoke, exhumed from a dark slumber. "i need to brush my teeth."

life continued.