the new milk stains her blouse. ruining it for the evening
we push legitimacy at it like a warm bath
the wires outside dangling from dead trees
and under the ground, are
bringing
things
places
we make a pact to explore the transhumanist desire of language to escape now-space
our
less than opaque skin will hurt itself trying to be more
unused, falling from what passes for grace,
it will be expectable but idiosyncratic to the
genre.
she is a force of nature
you mistake her for fuck-doll. but you will be corrected
her lips are shining like rug burn☆
and the typos become art.
the favors search, inching upwards, laughing as we find the best parts
the whites of her eyes are old masking tape yet
my
teeth are grinding like wet bark on the car door.
leaving paint behind to mark off where we have been_
in a gesture that says
we existed.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 10:46 PM UTC
the new milk stains her blouse. ruining it for the evening
we push legitimacy at it like a warm bath
the wires outside dangling from dead trees
and under the ground, are
bringing
things
places
we make a pact to explore the transhumanist desire of language to escape now-space
our
less than opaque skin will hurt itself trying to be more
unused, falling from what passes for grace,
it will be expectable but idiosyncratic to the
genre.
she is a force of nature
you mistake her for fuck-doll. but you will be corrected
her lips are shining like rug burn☆
and the typos become art.
the favors search, inching upwards, laughing as we find the best parts
the whites of her eyes are old masking tape yet
my
teeth are grinding like wet bark on the car door.
leaving paint behind to mark off where we have been_
in a gesture that says
we existed.
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