[from: the Loss Lieder]
as the clock
pencils ya down in the gang related under-caring, so hand-held poetry rips a fade nail rush to
sleepiofication in a bayou where i forgot how to spell the multiverse that
ables here a quest element shuts down all tv specials over craning to spear
that necessary suffering they gamble a glint to pulsate farm hacking nears the
end points for beginning if they had a release program it would not shout
zoology to ya, just waiting for growing
siècle cells to awake into that melos of hard-headed enemy, it all watches from
the sidelining, a silver lining under
not in so many words, all creeks buried by northern development, never evolve into the concrete money with a
turn to quit, or a flow to arrive, it goes into the mind atmosphere, if you got
pleadings for the case, centuries acre
you against lollygag find munitions, it means just that, a waving wig where a
flag spat flat ..... that means ya disrupt the simultaneously malign and
stupid, with choirs for singing the
thinking blanch gag law steep fall jailing handle ... just wait for the show with a cigarette that
ya don’t much inhale, because a readerly response pattern against the
self-involved hating slither-cats, goes toward that pounding train out back manages
generations back at the transformer cider squeak and clean rash clonedom, it fires into their staggered anti-human
accident of a failed personhood, never break up the mind growth human bovine
greenery insemination protocol, all they
wrap a decimal with blown grain meager to the hand-wringing; i almost fanaticize and a phantom’s
eyes, fantastic size or the eagerly
awaited boredom, folded down in a
daughter small waiting room interior to the process, a gash in sizzle waves that fizzle, that’s
the table tank burning fevers, always
you in that way will blast a summer’s lye gadget say ....
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