lie still. be quiet. please understand what happens so, next time
here in the middle of the bottom of the lie how obvious
i love you for the doubt you show me still possible in this body where you show me
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost
love me past the edges, stances and masks, deeper than i know things.
people, mostly all barely beyond apes, cannot be trusted. they are incapable of caring
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
got the sex drive of 15 young bulls, but the women are all scared.
no means no. no response means no. (everyone knows maybe means nothing
we go walking around walking all over this town nothing ever getting us down cause we’re just a couple of clown…
being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities