why is nothing i can do now. where it went. what that echo means, if anything

yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what

a few hundred million dying days later he emerges into crazy

lie still. be quiet. please understand what happens so, next time

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

being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest

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

i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.

bring me things to break myself upon till

here’s a story. it may even be true. where i come from nothing ever sucks, so i

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