No choice little voice. Tasted like vice, so said the man.
What then the tide sprang through. Papered over levies losing to blooding hurricanes.
When it rains it pours when the reign washes over. Watching the watcher man men, when then, can they no longer play pretend.
Masked indicators playing indictment jazz. Like bad like bad.
Sobbing cysts must be missed or train track melodies be delayed. Hard to pay to play pay to win in the blooding whirlwind.
Rage rage rage, remiss. Can’t take control of the fatherlessness mist, multiplying melancholy, delay the folly bit with mollies shit.
Cry foul battle, steal society’s death baby rattle. Like cattle in the pen, writing new errors in realtime.
Streaming screams through surreal dreams and wallowing in swamps. Culling tallow from the sheep. Censored by the FCC, replaced by a machine beep.
Not quite domesticated, not full savage. Burning ashes buried in baby cabbage. Fields. Field, fiefs, and fiends reaming lands, building fans, salting sands breaking dreams. Only the plastic is shatter proof.
Gestalt, broken faults, vibrating earthquakes timing a mincing waltz. Sabbatical reading, free radical breeding smearing life on rotten asphalt. Inhabitable earth.