receding sideways into rectangular crevices, saturated in sometimes surrounding this table, all ears and no input, eyes bent to the cue to curate my masterpiece and make it make no sense

opus fodder! (i’m not interested in your interpretation.

tell me results tomorrow, let me lay in bed  and think alone all the things i need to do.)

air-conditioned cubicles, confines for rainy days, one block from the ocean and next to the bay where the seagulls serenade me for finite presence, monotonous calling with these callous-less hands

all-thumbs generation, star-spangled genocide, tongue-tied resentment for precedential quitters!

silk-screened addition to my barefoot brigade, prancing nonsensical onto your TRAPeze, and plexiglass laughing lost unto this wall where i will work up my colors and telltale it all.

aesthetics regret crooked concrete procedure, my brain is all i need to know how to proceed, savage fortifications to justify its presence. it doesn’t have a name, executive physics.

(how shall i proceed or advance? you already know the answer.)

underpants running into your for sale with warriors waking my alibi, baby. whirlwind flooding this sinking island, waters collapse with wallflower roads. 

privately published, the auction of one’s mind. milk dance mafia, outside of it all. marilyn relations for centripical celebrations, tossed to the wall for spin spin television.

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