every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which

yes, darling you should come & take care of me, someone has to, & you

we are nearly always a world which almost

if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost

god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.

I just felt what I think I’ll feel always, once we’ve finally met, and share this cool space, like an open secr… It felt like all my favorite songs…

may be too onerous a task for those not starving. lucky

life and even one good thing– anything, a course in wonders becomes? no school, thanks not for me. no lesson one so likes declaring to find itself legs. no