How long has this been going on? How unmanageable is it really--and who's running up and down those steps, twisting up, spinning down(ward)?
We told you. We are a noncontinuous electrographic monologic singular-crepuscular view of the front lawn, somewhat possessed.
You got out of this...precisely how many tracks? And your nose smells inside of baby lotion--why?
How many sides of the coin can you predict will fall--where?
Cannot cannibalize what's sitting there waiting for you to enjoy...
Your appetizer:
A bug.
With wings.
And antenas for directing traffic.
You--want to sleep downstairs? The great pile of water which the dog lapped up?
I've been working, you see, on this project for hours. Soon enough you'll see results.
When will you want this--indicated--on the sheet--never mind. I'd sooner be deleted myself.
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