show me how you do it
and I’ll drop everything
in your absence I enjoy everything
making made from nought
feeling like an an animal man
tonight, grimacing
I don’t think this is what
you want to see
I’d rather plat some fink
and rip your skull from your chest
there is nothing here for us
but my fifth resignation\
a backpeddaling on the backspace
a decantation of sorts
what can we conjure up but
but slow and mystical delights
a meditative practice: sit stoically
i’d love to tempt the sky
if it you could want to try
take me, slice, take me in your arms
and get the fuck awau
because I do not like to be
touched. We cannot do this
inner peace shit.
Fuck, maybe I have it.
All the gardens . full
of bad trajectory, let us
pickle .
