I keep robbing Jove while I pick the pockets of mankind - kind of like man - kind of like a man - and the similarities end in utopian wants and wishes while the team of derelict animals that pretend to be a fiction called humanity jab each other in the gut using evil influence over air's other-functionality (vibratory drums of love and war) I HATE YOU

(i love you) I WILL BREAK YOUR *******  JAW, YOU SANDED ****

(you, i love you)

there's a third gleam in that unisex glare of theirs. dead as a broken fog, not of mist, but smoke-stacks - and the Esso gas station left itself open for the final 24 hours of life on Earth. because you might as well drive home if you're going to die.

*(you, i love you)

I
just

  r e a l i z e d

t
h
  a
   t

butterflies
  are               the

b r e a t h i n g
  
m
e
s
s
e
n
g
e
r
s

of

scribbled              

  love

notes.