where delirium implodes: aside pieces of dirt city's parole: its first and only terrestrial buttock hates semen clutched by night's departing stutter: moribund flickering in hand-bags made of sand: dull light: smallness smiles: married by the moon's benign coils of grace: choke nomenclatures: falling cups of spring prove sorrow a system: dirt clones disturbed reels of film: a painful genesis agrees: down to solvent's lonely truculence drinking high in public without getting caught: white conceals somewhere between mysticism and distant viral grunts
I feel doomed & I like it.
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