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

if ever someone is my dearest ear who hears my truth as theirs

i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing

excuse me, i thought you were also the center of a fractal

a few hundred million dying days later he emerges into crazy

Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.

we are nearly always a world which almost

we were all talking, things taking shape as they do, when someone said, be desireless, like that is at all a thing people

why is nothing i can do now. where it went. what that echo means, if anything

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

no means no. no response means no. (everyone knows maybe means nothing

the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely

man, it’s hard to come down from impossible hopes seemingly