voting for a cameo

Newcomers approach vocal tone in validation to the personality corresponding body language, mirroring inconsistency in behavior, to wit: unwrapping a straw, chosen from a dozen and using it like a shovel to remove plaque concealing wisdom teeth in fuzzed-out decay. This type of insolvent imposes on conversation, revealing its plot through voiceless communication, a smiling emoji rots the keratin to bone and dresses a finger-point in green intent. To the layperson green means go, but to the intelligentsia green fragments off the stoplight and poses before a crowd of yellowbellies and directs them to rub their tummies clockwise and correlate the action with light head taps. The rotation of a flat hand over their distended stomach alters flesh tone from yellow to red. Conformity, with the right direction, provides freedom from distraction and opens the mind to concerns of greater value like which stardust is apt for worship, or how to alleviate arthritis from inflicting a voter’s elbow, confused on whether they’re pulling a lever, or checking a box in ink

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