Why choose hardwork?
The almighty calling that just seems to find its way to a
sordid-type of bunch,
Like the grapes of wrath themselves were freshly pruned
Into almighty excellency.
And alliteration affidavit into saying.
They went a little wicked their way onto growth.
Toll the soil,
Don’t get shot
Working out there
In those Tomato Dens.
What could that mean?
We all worked the farm.
Something familiar in vein,
Until the soul starts to fade and suddenly my wrong shirt
Gets me on another tour bus
I accidentally hopped to the other side.
I love.
New York.
New Ways.
New Paths.
A deutsch crossing ona samurai’s path.
Why would you keep running into me?
Shogunatae blues.
You’ve met some girl and became a fool.
Sing another song, bro.
“Way too competitors.”
That specific verbiage.
Gets to me.
Why utter onto quakes and quacks and rage.
Storm the synthwave.
If you know me and know me well,
It isn’t a text.
I certainly don’t have a number.
You’re allowed to have a number?
What’s your angel number?
Oh I’m sorry, your zodiac sign?
Do you have one of those?
Do you know it?
Ouracious and it seems so hard to spell
In Greek.
But it’s-allgreektome.
Interesting.
Roman doubts.
And romaine chalefed with beef scarpaccio sounds
Like a nice trip to Venice.
Wither in ravines of blue blue blue green
Water.
Calm yourself in the wash of midsts of
Vacation?
Haven’t had one of those…
Linger.
In awhile?
My, you deserve it!
Cocktail after cocktail after cocktail.
A gulp in quiet dismal silence
And every doubt is going to be bored in
09 minutes.
And I walk out the door.
I’ve seen7 people here I like.
I can work with that.
I’m dying to leave.
Who’s around the corner?
They saysmoking cigarettes
Was for social-uses back in the day.
Stand in the rain.
Don’t sing.
Hum.
Jaunt.
A tune.
No Jive, that’s a record company.
And everyone I know still react Decca like it’s a birdhouse that’s
Whistling.
Like the backburner.
The cast iron pan of some girl that sold her hair
And they ask if it is the brazilian weave.
No sew-ins.
Billie killed herself that way with gardenia pins.
I love love love
That
Smell.
It lingers in the wind.
In the Carolinas.
Tarmac and Sioux.
Sumac and Za’aatar.
I rather make a pita flatbread and rip greens in my own hands
For a dirtbath the next morning.
The well pumps internationally.
Do you want Neptune to Peru for your healing?
Skincare had been like homie stuff
Like Siberia and Bristol and then Iceland was for funsies
And Spa Night.
Silly Goose of a Gal.
Andyour wedding dress?
Is sweats.
Black or Green?
I’ve never been asked that before.
Onyx + Emerald, indeed.
Old cities and capitals.
Architects are INTJ-t.
A menace in brigs.
And somehow so good
In their behavior.
“You’ve inspired everyone here to do better..”
In heartfelt mentor-y type bullshit.
Put me in an emotional hazmat suit.
And deep sanitize the air.
Crock for Wakes and Crow for Supper.
I’ve gone mad.
And it doesn’t smell fresh.
Like a C7 sample.
Chemistry enhancer.
And there is no pulp
In my sprays.
Hair and + Face.
After the Han.
The Tortuous Exercise.
I can do all 3 Brahadjva Twists Now.
That’s Crazy.
Almighty and Hazy.
I suppose what’s done is done.
Ensue later.
I never know when work is gonna come up.
Igottacomeupwithit.
I guess that’s why I’m depressed.
Sick Menace, indeed.
I like those letters.
The A-inbetwee.
N
Sam.
Cool.
.[check.check-thebored.]
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