canvas for a flat boy

empty. She’s one canvas I will never fill. For the life of me, I have no repose in thinking of it. Ah. Or. What was the Spanish, I already lost it. Macromedia in a profound sense, lost. Given to the lullaby of big dreams, low scores. You had a hard time there, did you. It was measured by your impetus to comprehend the experience. Little boy, lost. He’s got a hand in it. It takes a cynical breath to pony up the last one.

you, just a child. Either connected, universally, in harm or fakeness of healthy. The human condition is unhealthy. But do ya lil that? I’ll have it with pesticides, on purpose. Vacant for an hour. Rotted and screaming “Freddy’s back!!!” Pieces of this piece less peace less SCREaming mentality. You were at work. The boys say, “as you were”. White trash, tame not brash. Ostracized for your humility. OCD brings back life. Common sense can’t. Fear for a new sleepless bargain. Republican dualist. Outsider’s law. What goes on in your head?

Injured rat full of content. Disposal. Shake of the tv, Me! It isn’t real what those nameless peace authors are saying, not educating. “take care of it Now. Deface the ego. Watch your thoughts. No mind comes after being aware of thought. Meditate for peace”. Yet the sweet iteration of crime comes when love, on acid is self real. Hinders success when bondage writes theocracy, so scorned to public transformation. To be medicated is to perceive feeling in a completely foreign angle. For instance, when she breathes, it is Not remembered.

Viscosity of fragrance is political. Engine of the empire. We’re drinking coffee, no one learns. That was a good night. A vast circle of quantum tantra, concluding that figments of careers depend solely on the the projector.

Punctuation insolence.

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