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

there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them

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

just listen the trees drink silly.. I work i work that day the not

does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you

the very idea that i could be

here’s a story. it may even be true. where i come from nothing ever sucks, so i

better fucking eat it all up. time is getting drunk & may puke, be rude, before finally

bring me things to break myself upon till

first fruits hardly a handful, the garden

of course it is not about you. you have to know this, like baby birds know worms come with mother’s return,