this slow pace clings i drag myself to the dark underneath of all beds. goodbye acheybreaky goodbye naptime leeches. i am the saturated plum of dusk and the plea to leave the last few ingredients out, the cookie could give 2 shits no rising no butter. can you smell the wailing of unlove by the rashred door? i may never comeout, roger– wheeling the distance between cloroxed sills. don’t let the barbarians near the blindwhite lair. and if anyone calls i’m at morphine beach where the seagull keyed my already keyed car. beaked in corvette yellow beaked in stay off my wall seagull gets what it eyes why can’t i! don’t finish that track, roger butaneblitz this measly breeze of crinkled jonny’s and scumbag-bumble-dolor instead.