my spirit sings to you, clears and quickens. losing you is impossible

better fucking eat it all up. time is getting drunk & may puke, be rude, before finally

first fruits hardly a handful, the garden

i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing

life and even one good thing– anything, a course in wonders becomes? no school, thanks not for me. no lesson one so likes declaring to find itself legs. no

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

every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which

there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them

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

if ever someone is my dearest ear who hears my truth as theirs