Save The Date

Anyone who presses their face against my window pane is not interested in best practices. I am known for a very particular type of rot. The bread we break can only be green. Delight yourself with black bananas. Nothing you are permitted to bite belongs to this year. Chewing consistency is not a pleasure I afford patrons. Keep your stomach in perfect strength because I will test it. A spoon for your milk and a straw for your plums. Nets have been fastened above tables of expiration. Good manners dictate that I protect you from the itch. Extol the virtue of timeliness all you want, the moment you wipe your mouth, ushers to your left and right shall bare you up underneath the hallows of your arms. I am a curator of dizziness. Show me a cluster that is fresh. I dare you. Each one has departed the vine before you were born. My artform is drawn from a spectrum of past due. Have you wrapped upon my door to bring me into compliance with a Gregorian calendar? Burn a city's worth of sage. It will hardly neutralize the waves of putrefaction that have teamed up with germ and fly. I have no quarrel with fragrant roses and seasonal spices. See to them. My complaint has never been lodged against the well monitored harvest. All of these will come to my house in the fullness of time. The patience I have demonstrated can not be reversed with lime. Neither can salt prevent my soft hello.