Tuesday, May 02, 2023

lop my cleaver with an eyelash

 its the little anxieties

that manifest

over time, the shape the body

and memory

the leftover path of a worm

is our brains.

Feet rubbed over and over,

by each other. terrible seconds before 

the begining. wasted shudders

from reliving the thinking. 

Developing recombinant patterns

while we lay helplessly asleep,

like victims, like tragedies, like comedies.

We are complex jokes for simple things like stars.

we smoke, we vibe;

perilous travels the fusion in a vacumn.

Fucking snoring,

I was writing.

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