once i met a cork, it fell from a roof after being shot to the sky that couldnt be seen because of the events of some builders who drew on there knowledge from past learnings to craft something that was invented by people i have kno idea even existed who probably have no idea i exist or the people well before them let alone the stars that were here before the earth came about.

the cork was fine, but i had some trouble on my mind, so i desided to let it have it, it was a good listener, never shouting at me to crank up a journal samwich for dinner or nuthin mate, chuck norris it was said belonged to this cork before he became a witch, stuck in a tree till anticipation seiced my language drew on a new meaning for a while.

but the entangled enchanted horn of the lost forest continued once more to search for mr cork who now played tamborine in my blues band, he would often look at me strange and say things like he felt like he left something behind long ago, but i denied it and said he was just illusiory still from the impact he suffered before taking ownership of me here before this computer screen lies a mesmericle transperent force that will cackle your senses till the ducks come home.