Totally tubular talking people stand at the edge of the world. They yell and yell, walk and walk, yet they never fall off and whirl. No tidal wave sucks them in nor create too much traffic; scoundrels, murderers, nice people too, the edge of the world is filled with people like you. Who are they yelling at? No one in particular. They just want to be heard. Once they reach the edge of the world, they keep on walking. Instead of falling, they go back to the end of the line; this entangle line that stretches across the North and South, West and East, where will it lead them, but to the sacred beast. Who is this beast you ask? Well, the person within who walk and talk.
This is a prose poem that I decided to mash together into one long paragraph. I believe it is pretty descriptive, but vague at the same time. I'm not sure where this came from, but I believe the first sentence made it all come together.
I hope you enjoy!