(2015)
god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.
if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost
this being we are, delights in all things, yes but is held breathless
of the things that make me become better only music is unlike surgery
we were all talking, things taking shape as they do, when someone said, be desireless, like that is at all a thing people
reflecting on the moment before, would be useful only were it not already perfect.
we are nearly always a world which almost
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular
was all stupid. you weren’t that entertaining. i find it all only sad now, that
being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
man, it’s hard to come down from impossible hopes seemingly
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
I dream sometimes you surprise me and it is surprising that I don’t immediately realize I’m dreaming