¢orruptable truth skips town when you walk in the (collection of spaces)

my false is my found is my autocorrected ****

not in a classic sense but explicitavely explosive

while the long mannequin arm-hand of death pretends not to reach for us
let's laugh away the notion of forever;
as this speedy life-of-grins and touches-buzzing and buzzing-looks-of-life
will have our necks broken before the sunrise