Sounds as if they’re constantly caressing their tethered and chosen soiled sullen fuksake souls – as it has to have been again
He goes stereo-typically against his granular grain

All of it making upset-tinglingly upside wrong way round sense of its saleable self
Til Genie lets itself out of that blue-chip white-collar bottle, bare-naked and funny how these angular walls turn it in upon themselves – a living breathing roundabout non-entity for musical scope aside loudmouthed entitlement

Suck us down / to the loaded gun inner between that tasty d-i-v-i-d-e of the singing and sincere microphone
Been here there everywhere all of our life – screwed in at the other-side

To the other side again, no gaining but for her pretty little tear-driven, paint-spattered face
Feature me, please, I seem to be coping fine and well at coping a little lesser than the rest of these heavenly featured creatures

Wind your eyes right the way in and sit, please, and prepare to read with me midst your uttermost willingness and affable ability
To dot my eyes and cross your knees – see, he wanted to be well-acclaimed and loved as a scribbler – not a writer but for a bare-knuckled scribbler – and to buy a sweet sweet cabin kind-a cottage on the edge of reason and to sit and drink and vape with a meandering and meaningfully insipid snake in his left-arm

For perfectly imperfect, endlessly never-ending degrees of persnickety portrayal

See, his words were his bleeding weapon right from the heavenly beginning
Til pressed gently against this need for the bleed of the cauterised curvature of nerve-wrangling industry

He. Is. Incredible. At. Being sincerely real, so it seems to read in and inner between that snake atop the sleeping page

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