The Universe is jabbing at you with a golden spork. It is basically saying stop listening to advice from the sidewalk crawlers and witless brawlers. The spork's staccato poke and prick is Morse for "you called this bitch correctly and still said yes." Knocked backwards a couple years you were, but now your feet meet the threshold which your head refused to cross. A destiny you discredited for being too gooey. You lost the thread when you gave up on your heart of garbage. Buck up, beauty. It's never too late to be defensive about one's failures.
Rlargusa: He lived louder than love.
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