| was i staring down, fith floor, missed dates, lost track induced, repeat frames and blueprints, masterplan, no such. never, ever, again. twitched and gamed on, i dwell in memes attacked by acid and target to the not being. feels like fossils against social fascists. when your weakness turns you off, invisible to both sides of citizens on the catwalk, olympic boycott is the hope of our legions. it throws away a few keys, this alternative methods i couldn't keep, no more can i afford to try unless i admit i cry. sustain the remote projection of what i used to be, it comes cheap but i worth less than the space it occupies the way the dummies do. loose squence as i ligth the fire before the fag escapes from the box, lights up, planet warmin, global fights my miserale individual, no guilt, i'm spaced-up. whatever i can't, it's about legions of pixels. pain shurely aint't no enemy, no substute for existence, planet of shapes hidding shops. over he comes, wired to the rest with an envelope and a sentence, even more than i can take. god is a pussy, heart attack, counting targets when i walk, chasing ghosts when i talk. pass by and count the days before a certain goddess, the only one who ever was true to me. rescue babylon on fire, hosted inward the temple. a twist in the fabric of you that let's you stare at the clock and get homesick. | is that her or what i used to be ? | her vision is worth living, hurting noone but me. again it seems to be the regular desire, hidden impossible. nothing for me. urgency fades away, nonthing really matters, it makes no sense, nor does ir provides the minimal amount of respect. who will really miss me when i'm gone, away or to ashes.one string serenade, binary signals, missing link lingers. the pseudo random activity get another target, like throwing stones in the sea, hoping it would raise a tempest on the coast to the lost continent of Mu Mu. release me internal, waves in the tempest by their serial number. that break, that day, lift the curtain, half chances are she has another generative complex. dare to ask, not, sand with chopsticks, brian lost in the arctic. my demise in communicate, september will meet the agency. fall short or demise, sequences feed the transcript before if i ever turn wise. naked in the attic, i wait for an amnesiac tide. soaky and the trooper, i give back for granted cheese, my funeral was jewish, my inmates muslims, my soul nihilist. fighting clouds with cancel buttons, that season wasn't right and it took too many years. they are making science of one of my deepest misteries, memetic throat. there was a sense i might be on the bench with a jersey showing an odd non integer number than they can imagine. |
some belong to legions
some shape in two
some are one
i stand zero
