_dogs bark in the shape of unsure gunfire as motorbikes growl by and
rain pills-up the blackened planar earth//like an old.favorite gone through far too many washcycles// .breakfast at midnight, they say- ******* the air with hissing tailpipes in the cool repose of darkness.
⚠️begone, foul steeds,the dogheart demands - knowing well, the falsification of instinct in this place.
it’s a new brand image we worship now!it’s a new pantheon of thinly veiled threats!
everything that’s been promised!it’s good for it-but just
put it on the company
card


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