just vomit words from my fingers
i see speak and feel like i only must occupy the tiniest spaces that allow time to reveal and reply ever so sonically humming orders for fortune not only human but you i deal and derail and rip open the tom bodett speaking horses by the keneddy spacy stations
out there up in the real zones of outer lightyears to factor a potion for you i just wanna grey and grow up for once
just like i really mean to, i begin a sonnet here i go
The night was not too long;
Longfellow had a birch:
I remember a sad song.
My partner was left in a lurch,
He said how could I be wrong.
My meaninglessness subsides!
He was a god-figure who belong
with all Other eternal insides,
therefore They make a sarong
to hold Eternity like a baby.
I can make it past a furlong,
and no one really means maybe.
Twelves lines is enough
of this good stuffs.
bye later love you
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