slap pensive light;who’s already harnessed the enormous blot sucking at visual horizon domineering uncouth lazy mammothly tiny mounds of mountain yet oft and unnecessarily gigantic the urine whitish vaults cooly my pane crashing quiet yellow dashingly dashes on the around of the scent of this space and its outside is 東京 simmering pink buds extrapolating everywhere and i hearken to the texture of the city wafting instinctualy in all my little cuts and i think we’re we and not her or i. this slight abscission of my logic and i tongue its purposeful tenor and i’ll walk in the garden of neon and it’s outside it’s tokyo and it’s: 東京…
the copious girls of summer are fair skinned laminate withs blonds all fingering about their heads the air or syllables of autumn in distinctly American voices a swaggering insomniac who is springs ugly sister but myfingers find her soft decimals and make her make verbs of quiet fucks; a distinct growl of decadent hair marching from between her hips and about who is circling the vultures of my hands. resting on her thronging paint the goldenarch of luscious flesh and she tastes like apples and cinnamon and dead my little fAll
well what am? a muscular innovation strapped cords blistering the skin bones wrapped in sinew,and aboutmy hands the cords sing softly stroked. the boughs splay and a forest gasps fronds detonate the the strands of courageous sun hair. an apparition of glory sits fouling my shoulders and i am heavy.
so come the needle stem. peaceful riot veins blue snakes. enchanting scent dump flow under and over or.
a fragment of violence.
Mr. Eliot;mr cummings,am i amongst) you?are my fathers.
by what light!this pains’ dismay is taught and frigid
it is the earth upholding my footfalls genial and slow
i tread and mark the soil as turning sunder:the stain
last frail and withered node of light 7fold and thrice
the hills are marching under that calamity of orange
duskish and fowling their curvaceous hide. i’m loose and tight
in folds of grass. and i walk
and i walk
and i w
grossly.fascinated of dense buttery light the streets is painted laughing amber and whisper it to her fair buttress this milky sity who’s nigh detestable glowing hair roils with turgid junk of cacophony drunk with metal
rusty little. we’ll go waltzing a polite fuck of youth in your tawny veins