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

no means no. no response means no. (everyone knows maybe means nothing

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

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

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

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

may be too onerous a task for those not starving. lucky

they really do know how to shove something up your ass like

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

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

Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.