(2013)
a few hundred million dying days later he emerges into crazy
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing
something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet
stupid met crazy decided to have a baby or two... what else you gonna do?
god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them
STEP BACK! There’s an infection you’ll get if you come any closer. It will open your eyes through the crust
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
they really do know how to shove something up your ass like
if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost
yes, i’m saying sunshine & rainbows will flow from your heart & other lovely places like living liquid
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities