Stream of Consciousness
Reading into the Reading in to into the Reading...
I count seconds like you all register days; where’s my spread? All pro/con list feels so fifty/fifty the villain’s checkmate. Can’t count once I’ve proven they’ve been removing the colored stickers. Pawns mid-season of a treason siding with the royal heathens. Ignore the grab is all I’m saying. You’ll be paying. Dawn’s the masks in and under the car, stark revamp of unfinished existence, total center of the resistance shit, an energy foreign that makes me feel like home. I don’t feel like I should leave anyone alone, used to being alone in that, as a matter of FACT. What am I even doing? Neat winter in the drought, who would ask for that? Laugh track kind of daily actor, plus, can’t fucking stand the cameras. Want the horror from the cosmic—slow going down blood rapids—“why isn’t my bending working?” I raised us to the plinth at the waterfall’s edge ten minutes ago; please sit down and stop screaming if you want us on the ground safely.
By Willem Indigo2 months ago in Poets







