(2014)
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
a few hundred million dying days later he emerges into crazy
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities
got the sex drive of 15 young bulls, but the women are all scared.
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
the very idea that i could be
we go walking around walking all over this town nothing ever getting us down cause we’re just a couple of clown…
people, mostly all barely beyond apes, cannot be trusted. they are incapable of caring
here in the middle of the bottom of the lie how obvious
does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you
leaning into, not against it. no, decidedly for, yes, always that, no matter
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost
you are guilty of failing to love and understand me, like a dog is guilty of failing to speak or use
I understand the tattoo now “VERITAS” on your wrist, only there because it is entirely absent everywhere else.