Braxtyn scratches supple cream skin forehead  and vigorously voices his inner reflections.

“Where can I make some sense of this wretched appalling ….

I mean I know I have my entire  life to experience..

But gosh I’m presumed or reputed  to be superbrain and the like.”

Prodigy he was and mental acuity his platinum calling card  but even the most endowed of us can topple from  the apex in the most entangled convoluted pattern.

“Well, the things I been credited with just 17 years of age… but this wretched thing … whoops.”

Beguiling chortles from every species outside some utter squeaking bleat noises.

“Over the years those mother earth sounds an oddment.

Blessed my sister and I resemble whales and dolphins.”

Muses Braxtyn.

“We can spot hints of phoniness and fakes miles away.”

Folds of skin rumpled a tad.

Rustic dwelling in conjunction with the spectacular decor one associates with urban universalisms.

Braxtyn being a compulsive rambler would as an inveterate reader of unwieldy tomes grappling with species of every genus, a to z of the rusticated pets.

BRAX his abbreviation which winsomely he adapted and adjusted.

Lambs, donkeys, mules, goats, cats and so on so forth.

He loved groans AND SO FOURTH.

“Wish my Sister, Blessing, would reappear, like me she longs to linger in in parks, to wander and explore, rummage in bookstores where things adventitious mysteriously drop on those dusty laminate floors.

Blessing is a blessing to everyone.”

Braxtyn …. pondered.

Whilst he peers into PONDS.

Blessing two they “POND-ERR.

Similar to ERR   “D”-“NOTE”-ING

Blessing invariably would shed her radiant peepers on even the most convoluted conundrum and decimate it with her clarity!

“The intricacies of this byzantine thorn in the side?”

Braxtyn GETTING DOWN TO BRAX TACKS.

 GROAN.

Concessions to a chronic stack of circumstances  are as frustrating as a failed and foiled loan application from a miserly shylock style financial institute.

“I heard eerie echos external and they emanated from a higher altitude.

Flying exotic birds winging the malachite handles of sun reflecting windows and maybe spitting at them.”

Despite my best endeavours, this obnoxious weed on paper is making a colossal twit of me and powerless I  am in the process despite my  brainiest of brainy bow and arrows. and goodness knows there have been multiple forays  at  this fiendish bug,  some have been profound, others scatterbrained and wildly off target.

After a spell of  prolonged  suppressed pet lip noise ensued.

“Oh Blessing you alone guru and gifted genius would decipher this hideous brain torment.”

Dedicated to the  most gifted, beautiful genius in the world.

The lady who has inspired every step of my life