Listen to the lyric dent in dreams. The program asshole wants to include half of your opinion in an important truckstop. Here’s where we will meet the inventor of Cocoa Puffs, whose status as someone who gave us something we never thought to want makes light shine thru the states of heads. And while we relax with racist fucks, dogma tells us a story. The semitic something walked into a sand bar something, and the tides something came over the edge of the earth to prove something. And further, there was something, once, and then it was different. Different is a rush god, and we listen by turning deaf. Out of the heavens of finely wrought brocade comes an envy of complete asshole. The complete asshole is god in a truck, god filled with hors d’oeuvres, god faking topic sentences. We who link surprise with intelligence write tropical notes in our gathering papers.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
Comments