Thirty-fourth find of the Meaning of Life Scavenger Hunt.

All my favorite colors, displays them as you please, supreme writher with the seas. Dullards still play guess the cheese. Anyway, Dear Moon,

Lighter of the revolts, the park assaults, where volts care to stop flowing, rules are means to be broken. A fixture stars look up to. A player in the rhythm game. High score while still in the vestibule doorway, a nester pretending to carpool going hundreds of thousands of miles an hour. Of course I keep missing you. Hangs close to us drinkers. Don’t mind them, they're just the thinkers, pay us no mind. Confirmed invisibly confined with home base at your behind, (most don’t realize) millions uses for the coldness of that. Very much my extraterrestrial luminous guide. Earth’s little top hat? Check your privilege, workout your slack-jaw. Crater stories alone are worth the three-week ride. But…

Just part of the litter infestation until dreams—nightmares turn you into the diving platform. Ether splash breaks space. To stay afloat, go limp for a second. Your messages are like a sassy mime's. Which interpretation, yours or mines? Yours truly, That Shakespeare worth a pretty dime. P.S. whose voice do you use in your interruptive signs? That mid trek new chore. Not a question of my devotion. Winter sun of control to put sunshine on the level. Disguised chaos but I believe in you, I don’t creep through your realm I stalk the Devils you spare.

What you share is easy to despise. In my shallow age this ridge line reveals only to sage eyes, my originals were carved out for scanners of the darkly-placed infinity blocking the truth. Basically, a fungi noose.

Red rousing the spirits from their graves, it tops the skyscrapers, witching hour-ing the morning haze. Stomping on the flowers, yeah, I got your warning, turquoise powered, (no I won’t explain) double the death in the gorgeous rain. Nourishing the camps as long as their bon fire clears the glampers. (I hear ya) So, I say your sullied message and bow for the enchantress you have me seek. On the way back to a Dutch house, your new invitation was next to my civies—and a blue robe. It says—“HEY, mover upon the land.” (it’s a call to stand) “build your rogue wheels lie to none of them. Remembered how I healed you before. Lick the bending spoon and know I’ve never met a door.