sometimes the cook does spit into the food

we see the form of the rolling woman
like a specter
falling
slowly
onto a bed
darkness in the sun
snowing down
a white
terrestrial atmosphere
god - these pills
sometimes
act as pistons
like
car alarms
now
only grazing the night

the nothing masters are rooted in their drunken
vomit
black jars in the trunk
i am what’s missing
the luminescent whisper
the erotic cloud refreshing the moon
tambouring solar love

let’s compare notes
shall we
,
el troubadour
:

swiped

thoughts

particulate


a wafflage of

emoji

revved into hallow eyes




,,,,,,,,,,




i’m not a bird
& i hate face-hook
i’m stuck in clono-pin-city
sky-lining wishes
and on spotify they say there is a hot dog you can trust
idk
tragedy eve to the sleeper:
you seem like you are going thru some sort of mid-life crisis

here, have an email bracelet

are you drinking your meme
because the jokes on you

yep. a mammoth morning - that’s my style
and you keep your killing regime in the relish

what do you promise those little girls
txt balloons?