god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.

first fruits hardly a handful, the garden

if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost

i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.

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

we are nearly always a world which almost

yes, there is a gap between us always has been now it is

was all stupid. you weren’t that entertaining. i find it all only sad now, that

shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear.  what will happen.

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

webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always