Pause like maize. This anonymous customer would be cuter if he were a real human being. Say words under your breath like a prayer. Chant to whatever makes the most sense. Sun box. Dead insects. Planetarium of night’s abandon. Feel this recklessness. I’d fuck anything dead and floating in front of me. He’s narrating the dead man’s biography. No not who I’d fuck.
The extent of your hyperbole’s ridiculous. No surprise, I’m craving sugar. Come in my mouth. This is all bullshit. “I don’t pray, I drink.” Hovering orbs in the sky. Everything I’ve already written about. Whatever mode of transport makes the most sense. Only some areas are covered with dirt. How to make a name in this game. The only other people in the room are silent, why can’t you be. I’m circling around the narrative forgetting to tell the story. It will be embedded somewhere. One could hope so. Who wants to tell me their birthday. No significant changes can occur under this moonlight. This emptiness. This desolation, solitude, but size.