sundays dont make sense sometimes....they have a shine that never
lacks the lustre of being free, though it's imminently connected to
truncation....stop trying to understand and just
break down under the fevered need for fire and blood and cede to the
desires i know i cant satiate tomorrow or the next life.
do yerself the justice of knowing that dead mans curs(V)e is more than
just east of eden and making sure that the importance of rebellion is
never far from being lost and broken and trying to kill the remembrances of the ones you
love.
to and from atlanta. i can smell the georgian peach juice all
over their state, stinking from the humid heat in moustaches and
eighties glasses and camouflage tank tops with orange neon swimming
trunks.....
'how do i feel? - i feel all fucking hopped up on froot loops and
cap'n crunch and a plethora of other incorrectly spe'lt cereals.
2 for 1.
, and dont fucking
mispronounce it - it's nav-a HO!!!!!!@!!!!!!!!!!!!'
it's a two headed escutcheon.
it's a talent. being dual - lipped. one to talk out of
and one to make my point with.
!hoo-rah.
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