WORLDBALL RISING

Worldball is a pastry flaking into a city, a sort of irretrievable feeling of elation among friends, a melodic conduit to mayhem, a smudge on the iPhone eleven and corporate benefits, a so-called shirt with floral patterns worn by everyone, the end of a job becoming freedom, a delicately applied sunscreen, a new movie, a capillary of play running straight to the river, a very hot rock, a burnish of cold skin upon said rock. Worldball is the antidote to feeling blue because its soul is juicy red like a beer you don't want or need — just beautiful to know it exists. Worldball is made of acid-seen suns at the climax morse code of the trip, like to put the stars on and heed their infinity.