Word play

Ululate. On my tongue. Lolloping around in heavy dollops.

Plonker. Falls down - SPLAT! Like a conker. Plonk-er. Bonkers.

Tenacity in the city; these words are all in cahoots, how uncouth of them in their little forts of boastful bricks - such pricks.

Dust off the voice box, shout into the wind. So various, vicarious, hilarious. PRECARIOUS.

They wish they could skedaddle off the page in rage. But I have them fixed in my retinas. Aye, I.