Thiz waz kool guise.
On the surface it’s mischief. I swam against the currents in my current situation; I live this. No purpose, and if bridge fits, then burn it. It’s as if, It’s all in sync, cause this misfits discouraged. Diminutive. How can you possibly think of the end? Fuck, I accidentally cut myself, I mean of course, if you’re into that shit. THEN LET’S GET INTO THAT SHIT. Every metaphor sculpted to precision. To metamorph into visions, of a better story for children. I’m the damsel in my own adaptation, where my face’s statue emblazoned on a mantle, so brazen you could take a snapshot of the haven and slap it on to a painting.
^Raw.
Study the angles presented. Through an angular axis, on the plane I’m accessing
Write a page or two, whole piece; about how you stare at your phone screen while saying a sentence, then predict your demeanor by subtle facial expression
Wish you civilians would give me a chance
instead of writing me off
I try to think so brilliantly that
the type of excitement gets me slightly pissed. God
It’s tiring. Caution. The time has been sung.
Line after lion, song after sun
Decipher the choir, despite all it’s done
Don’t have road to speak, so license the tongue.
^Haw.
I might move to Kyrgystan. The moving company will be a giant eagle. Sparkling water.
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