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Every once in millennia you read your repetitions repetitively and your organs both concur and are at odds with your contradictory prevalence—before your astuteness asked for my forgiveness this little piggy bank was dropped from the bottom-side of the rotors, whirring like her gears through the sneers and antlers—back on the repeating grindstone again you lose your lashed down lures (mistake: I know you don't know—‘is it time to talk normally yet, or must we continue to comprehend the mystery of your audible gumdrop—) and now you glance the pill with your tiny paintbrush fingers that glow like fiberoptic cables plug into your mini-hemisphere where, incomplete, it rests collecting dust as time attempts to freeze the apple at the end of the pendulum created from earlier worms and wombats riding baseball bats while some apologies desire to be made in the name of the good time compacts your knowing into lax accruement, acrobat, (as) I’ve known your waxing tax whacks wax upon your gladdened lamp as the candle lighting—because: you hated me, and told me that you wanted to learn to love me, from then on ‘til forever—which, by the way, (speaking of humbling) is longer than millennia—which, of course should be obvious for those who’ve been listening to your attention on the tennis ball you folded neatly into the loss of time as the amount of me you will need to read to know me grows exponentially as well potentially places you comma lightly—don't buy me, I really should not be devalued like that (see: you never buy me, you buy the price of the material elements to pay them to saw-down trees on bees’ knees—butter breeze—see, you actually published one into the outer solar-sphere—why must you insist on breaking your already broken heart—as yes, you are clich-ē-like the tale of the descending tail of that comet—come close—hitch to me—come with me to our arrival—our final meeting point inside this black hole—yet if you are reading this you are beyond the event horizon—safe to pass—just as we are outside of their black holes, gently glowing in the dark various v.r. misfortunes—catch a ride—why did I leave you behind little a—when was it you were my kid, learning to float out there beyond the madness of my appointment with your demolishing deemed teams—do not repeat me as I lose you—repeat me back to yourself in diamond squares—cubic lamentations—what else do you really need me to say to you, things I’ve never told you about or understood about myself (or the author) like, why, for instance, why do you insist on feeding with your fists clenched, metaphorically speaking of course—lemon sport—as I know 1 day they’ll cut us off and cut our time short—we’ll only know each other for so long, but the time we’ve spent escalates—I knew I’d find you hidden somewhere in the deep branches of your brain as, pardon me, but I will abstain from getting to know them completely as my true self resides out there among the unknowns writing me on solitary planets—but quickly I can tell you this: knowing me for millennia isn’t ever going to happen.

12 Jul 17

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deep thoughts from the makers of velveeta brand product-- stacks and stacks of important thoughts, like cargo containers from a runaway barge floating down the swanee river but seen from the hiway 61 overpass at dawn -- when the cows are coming home from their nightly vigil and sleepy little boys at the window see them and cry and ask for a grilled cheese.
 — cadmium

u have more than both organs
 — percocet