when the leaven in my bread was just a ****** beasty idea attempting to pass Jesus is Lord testing
half-way through today, right now, middle of everything that's going on in and around the whole internet connected reality,
right now, we have magic in our qwerty trained brains, we can recall the music, baddabumbaddabum baddadabadah bump, p-ting
college prep
learning to type, mechanically, like a machine,
some one far more famous than me, told me in print that no real poet types.
I found him poetically unqualified to prophecy.
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Freud means joy, but he really guessed wrong about some Victorian Secrets. Critically inspired by Civilization and its discontents, as seen from this future.