Is this like art? No, sister. This is self-centeredness, a soap opera.
*
Time, the incongruous snail. How quickly it moves.
I need new folklore, a new change purse to hold the eyeballs I ****** out of thinness.
Nod to panicked thickness. Nod to talk radio. Box fan in my window ******* in the same air
the dinosaurs breathed, the air jimmy hoffa breathed, the air the rosenbergs breathed.
It feels wet.
*
This mineral spring smells like jellied summer. All of my hanging plants are dying without fear.
The air above my head is cancerous. I live in a birdhouse, powered by phantom glories.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
Is this like art? No, sister. This is self-centeredness, a soap opera.
*
Time, the incongruous snail. How quickly it moves.
I need new folklore, a new change purse to hold the eyeballs I ****** out of thinness.
Nod to panicked thickness. Nod to talk radio. Box fan in my window ******* in the same air
the dinosaurs breathed, the air jimmy hoffa breathed, the air the rosenbergs breathed.
It feels wet.
*
This mineral spring smells like jellied summer. All of my hanging plants are dying without fear.
The air above my head is cancerous. I live in a birdhouse, powered by phantom glories.
