(no subject)
it's very easy to fold. buckle. break.
just follow the steps one. two. three.
how can i live? every vivacious finger is pointing
at something. folding, buckling, breaking up all
the jumbly glassy things worming thru brain, as if
the cells were connected by easily accessible ducts.
it used to be next to impossible to go outside and
think about next to nothing. now it is always some
big thing, firing off rifles and miscellanea: ex-
plode into space. remember that? it was raining to-
day and it is still cold and wet. all i have is all
i have, still, and what? no. it's an effort still.
break, buckle, and tear. it's not so hard as self
redemption. that is like "build a bunch of walls so
that you can tear them down later" and what if there
are no hammers available? then one might be fucked,
in that regard, having no unoccupied hammer to im-
plement. wonder how much the world fetched for him
anyways. ever play by the rules? i did not think so.
i never took you for one to comprehend all of those
things like rules are. you're just a little girl.
what are you supposed to be other than that? you do
not know either. what the hell. pronoun helping verb
verb preposition question comma begin conjunctory
phrase verb pronoun? stop it. i dont need your sick
head for a damn muse. idea: installation? would it
not be a dream? a fantasy? A WAY TO COMPENSATE FOR
THE REST OF IT? people will be supposed to live in
it all. the irony is that some do. anyways, they
probably all do. everything might as well be many
aphrodesiacs. because it is all undeniably terribly
irrevocably holy jesuschrist-style indubitably and
wildly inevitably resolvingly and oh-so gracefully
saddening.
would it be better if i had a future
in anything at all, anything at all?
just follow the steps one. two. three.
how can i live? every vivacious finger is pointing
at something. folding, buckling, breaking up all
the jumbly glassy things worming thru brain, as if
the cells were connected by easily accessible ducts.
it used to be next to impossible to go outside and
think about next to nothing. now it is always some
big thing, firing off rifles and miscellanea: ex-
plode into space. remember that? it was raining to-
day and it is still cold and wet. all i have is all
i have, still, and what? no. it's an effort still.
break, buckle, and tear. it's not so hard as self
redemption. that is like "build a bunch of walls so
that you can tear them down later" and what if there
are no hammers available? then one might be fucked,
in that regard, having no unoccupied hammer to im-
plement. wonder how much the world fetched for him
anyways. ever play by the rules? i did not think so.
i never took you for one to comprehend all of those
things like rules are. you're just a little girl.
what are you supposed to be other than that? you do
not know either. what the hell. pronoun helping verb
verb preposition question comma begin conjunctory
phrase verb pronoun? stop it. i dont need your sick
head for a damn muse. idea: installation? would it
not be a dream? a fantasy? A WAY TO COMPENSATE FOR
THE REST OF IT? people will be supposed to live in
it all. the irony is that some do. anyways, they
probably all do. everything might as well be many
aphrodesiacs. because it is all undeniably terribly
irrevocably holy jesuschrist-style indubitably and
wildly inevitably resolvingly and oh-so gracefully
saddening.
would it be better if i had a future
in anything at all, anything at all?