the am is a different time, just another monster waiting on flexed calves for that precise moment when the flood gates open. that's not me at all i say somewhere from the bloody back banks of my mind. the front is far too busy piling briefcases full of vinegar which fall continuously, seeping into my nose, my mouth, and coating the language that blunders on.
what? man the controls god dammit. the implosion feels damn good. i mixture of orgasm and fine swimming on a day when something else is what you should be doing. and by god do i love to do the unexpected. who's for mediocrity anymore anyhow? who exhibits exuberant restraint besides those guys with the puffy hats the queen of england hired for good measure?
hilarious thoughts can dance their fine tunes all along my brain stems but cutting right through is the damned truth. im a jibbering idiot. a rattling buffoon on wheels too bat shit nuts to realize i miss something else.
what? man the controls god dammit. the implosion feels damn good. i mixture of orgasm and fine swimming on a day when something else is what you should be doing. and by god do i love to do the unexpected. who's for mediocrity anymore anyhow? who exhibits exuberant restraint besides those guys with the puffy hats the queen of england hired for good measure?
hilarious thoughts can dance their fine tunes all along my brain stems but cutting right through is the damned truth. im a jibbering idiot. a rattling buffoon on wheels too bat shit nuts to realize i miss something else.
