Everyone is writing. There’s no sound in heaven and ghosts are the teeth of god. I can’t even read I’m so sick. I have been a boy not wanting to know about *** and I have also been a boy wanting to kiss a crow put to sleep by god’s footprint. I looked it up twice on my phone how to set oneself on fire. The body is a boring dream. I can’t enter a building without hearing a baby stop breathing in the uncrushed stomach of my inner child. Someone says oh look and it’s just something outside that should be there.

Be the false thing that god worships. Lead hyposexuals to the sleepwalker tired of finding your body. I am desperately dumb. America is ruined because the destroyed parts of America angel no creature to a stop. Imagery is a measure of detail's molasses loss. I can't go back, or I'd take that out.

The food we ordered is gone. Suicide, weight loss, and snow. No one takes Ohio with them. The baby burns itself on a baby it wants to recognize. The void is a bird dreaming in the airway of a ghost. Praying turns me toward prayer. I hurt my son but I hurt my son in front of someone doing the wrong thing with pain. There’s a way to tell god that we think about death.

Death is for the slowly dying. I ate in hell so quickly I was forgotten by salt. I’m never naked, but write for years that I am. God is killing the angel I impressed with shyness. I’ve never told any person in one sitting three things about my body. My father had drawn the crucifixion and my mother was showing me in a poem the only time sleep was caught outside with death. Stop loving me. Start.

Memory is the afterlife of existing. In the dream, my dream is a dog made of blood. I’m sorry that you cannot sleep. My mouth is a bone writing to a bitemark. Bees from your childhood are trapped in bees. There’s no god and no way for god to know.

You can't drink in the bathtub if your son is disabled. The eyes are more violent than what they see. People standing on a haybale pretending to be high shouldn't be killed by a truck. There is one year of *** and two of snow. I unmirror in the dream I was left in for the bot that I was.

The heavy heaven horse
headaches

The infant cinemas

The invisibly tragic
frostbitten
palmist…

Go on, son

Toy blood teething in the church of my ear