anyway, i can't think about that
anymore. the abyss gonna abyss.

i push pixels
bent on ellipses
****** up on extended metaphors
they turn me out
my sweater dismantled
these holes got socks in 'em
enamel from the storm god's tooth worn
and he knows i know

awkward eschatological talks ensue
like: "i always knew you were faking it."
stuff like that.

threshold deniers, behold, the new day: nigh af