worte this while way fucking messed up, actually im still messed up, cuuz i just wrote this, i havn

[sancte]

this document wll rent space from time renacting theartrical drama as done by william shakkespeare formely known as will in youth as in the fairy tale as seen by a conquistador by the name of cortez greedy as the man who has taken the bullet in the bullet of a bleeding altruist speak not for the vein repeal your stament for lack of matierial evidence, i walk backasswards fpr this fence is guarded by a phonatic starved phobia photographed by a phonograph purging on diet pills, this Pill red or blue will offer a transpot to what is really tue ask not you can do for god but what god can do for you like crucify, commit genocide, oh and pray to what i ask for is semblance of the men i knew.

this damn language is constriced by the contructive nature of its premis offered ironic by overused vocabulary as defined by every artist performing within the name of a genre. so pathetic these cleche words stir the stomach of a listener malnourished by act hannus as a spoliled a seed constriced of the knowledge to breathe clearly let is air out and dont breathe to deep i say this once but i hope you listen to me the smog of this ocean as brought by the sea this dark holiday i s slowly calling out to me im the break from a plastered mistake, got drunk got angry and punched through the turf of a drywall no stud, this fragile barrier slowly plagueing this houses' worth