Flat rain bang water laugh
May twills creak love
I slip out words via a damaged consciousness:
Parts negated by social revenge against my green tensions.
Flue clue. A glove bothers me. Why the pain of medicine's cruelty?
No one will ever think of the word that bakes flies in my breasts.
20 years of treatment and chaos sizzles in its wake.
Notion traipses and it is sinking into a bowl loud and heard.
Clay bothers my ghoul.
My flank artists dander coned egos. Flee sircuses for your will is tan..
Booth stable; clown Jamie still says she is wind.
God. No God. With it you are ill; without it you are hilslslakf
asdlfkj\\
I cannot kill stasis with my plague.
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