No Title

(2025)

Burn the ground forgot to smell it. The avalanche trapped all the animals, forming a zoo. Each found itself in a separate enclosure. Tomorrow never came. That way ensured there would be no such thing as rescue. The sky found itself highly motivated. Wish I was. I could nearly almost taste reality that year. The thinnest bit of pollution, it broke off into my harried happenstance; reality commenced a wave. Old Suckdick over there germanified into proverbial chaos machinery. The hair of an omelet’s speech. If I didn’t want chaos, I wouldn’t bother making anything. As it stands now, I am king hard-on, a poet in a pile of ashes. Learn to bake me, we’ll soon be fucking. No familial bickering in these crude cruel parts. I very nearly found myself. Cruelty and dishonesty had a lot of found personhood. I’m so glad you’re not looking in that mirror.