Party with the typewriters.
Party with the typewriters.
I got him off and he didn’t
me. Wub lubes in myster-
ious ways. Take out your
wallet and beat it slightly.
Look how I’m branded.
Next up, curated (a new
tattoo in 3-D). Later,
we embrace nerve loss.
There’s no way of know-
ing which chapter to
be in. A place like
Tokyo. Maps are no
use. Winter slides over
your skull. A bucket of
loss is worth two in the
drain. It’s his eagerness
for wisdom got me. A
knowing push when
democracy reels it in.
