F it

Whenever I pull this out stuff gets screwy best writer I know fucking galaxies still we keep editing non-violet indigo blue pencil

when you look at we with those everything eyes

walkin on fumes runnin been done coast in to cali/cankles the given is up

soles to the ceiling heaven's back in the cell where we left it

knock knock who's there please knock hard please knock hard who? please knock hard who loves ya.

I'm your furnace you're my heat sink drop the stopper let the meat think

Somewonderful gave me the pass code to the lucy lockup and I've been wayfaring loving every (one/thing) till now when I stopped to lance this blis....

And we're back. That was a pussy mess. Life lesson no. 732 Affix kisser to blossom. Bring wipes. Forgot who I was talking too much?

Left right left nothing to be here. Just your typical run-of-the-mill bass, t- this far from the tree-unk it's tough to find shade but I'm sure it's there.

We found seven halves of chain links. Found that jail's made for escape. A lion has pride. Trash tag! Dub le pause. Steel finds ground. Wind tumbles down. Carne asana ariana. Maxin we beyonsonna.

Which might take some unpacking; I can allow this to happen. See, the be is we, and the yon is nearer than it ever deemed to be come son, beyond the sun lies the wonders one day beams onto/into the grande meatspace we unwittingly unwaveringly unabashedly blasterriftastically invade as we wake into yet another day we cheer up.

Cited in

F it