I heard the east seas are full of ease. Easefish swim about and seine
plankton into their wide, soft mouths.

Starfish seas, starfish wheel in spase. Appease! Appease apefish in
sease. Ah, but seas of ease cease. Is there no evolvution in sease? A
surcease of volition in sease? Revolution in the seas of ease — the
cheesefish and the rubapes and the whalebobs rise up and evolve into man-
walking shagdogs. They scrape their feet and knuckles across the dry
scarps and landscapes in search of anthills and termite mounds to take
over and occupy.

My soul floats in a liquid sea of ease while my dry body, my wet-dry body
roams among the world, bumping into people and places and things, and
passing through situations like chinashops. While I revolve a galaxy of
lazy matter. I evolve a revolving galaxy of lazy revolvers. I dangle in
the drumming seas of ease — my mind is always relaxed. It's not here in
the tense world, but its effects, emotions frozen into utilitarian shapes
in time — the atoms in objects don't like to stay in one place too long.
They'll rebel, sure as hell. The grass is always greener — atoms &
molecules yearn to Be, and once they Are, they yearn again for
Dissolution.