[Split]

im breaking good. chasing fractals of faulty thought. the manger music, elevator cable loosens. hanging like a puppet noosed by a higher god. no signing bonus.thx labor union. just line, cross, and dot- find your own restitution. make due with all you got. IT CANT ALL BE MAGIC AND ROSES. Ive got too many packs of gum open. im losing the plot, in the skin grafts, minima/ maximum dosage. will the points of inflection disappear in the improvised wavers, blind shear of your voice. noise that i collected for years like painters did dimes by my bedside narrative chambers, Raven and all. acrylic base, thins with the wine. spill. chase. blame is a crystalized midnight shade ball. clockwork.