(2014)
so, i’m in this spiritual war. maybe you aren’t, but i am. many great losses
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden
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.
liking to say things, all kinds of things, mostly about the way things seem
a breeze. already know what’s what. shut up. kiss her. shut up...
leaning into, not against it. no, decidedly for, yes, always that, no matter
they really do know how to shove something up your ass like
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
just start over not so much like anything was particularly
webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always
reflecting on the moment before, would be useful only were it not already perfect.
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
love me past the edges, stances and masks, deeper than i know things.
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