does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you

every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which

of the things that make me become better only music is unlike surgery

excuse me, i thought you were also the center of a fractal

yes, darling you should come & take care of me, someone has to, & you

may be too onerous a task for those not starving. lucky

god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.

unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,

man, it’s hard to come down from impossible hopes seemingly

there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them

so, come on then, brilliant one, see, i’ve been waiting for you with eyes

something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet