caricature fiction like a functioning don't-ask- but- I'll-tell
it was a clover and a daisy's birthday by way of default and
Jesus Christ, this girl likes Terrence McKenna? In all immediate alleyway stores of coke and ketamine is the period at the end of every written sentence,
so the wait is something beyond me. the slate is a cleanliness devoid of practice

but whose really watching, kid.

you? or the television?