P.S. I love you [what a shamitty fucking movie of a chick flicker tear jerker right in the cihorneiabeefedup of the heart in all that anger..Talladega or Enchanted was funner to film, honestly. Catch I on a Jury Duty tale near you, why lan familiyiean learned lie around me.]]]
And an Irishman sings
Swallowed
So goes the
Bush.
And I
Am not rioting
And we have notated that 18 hours in I started complaining about you
And probably like 8.78 years
I mean hours later
We have necessitated in saying you weren’t selfish
But a selfish man
And you uphold your promises more in death than life
And ya gots real spooky on me there.
Wasn’t sure if it was the dog
Or the walls
Or the chimes
Or the
Every revolution of that fan
To haunt me in
Tar + Daffodils yet again
And I haven’t worn Daisy in Decades
Mr. Wilson
What’s ur problem with me
And in all honesty
He was always honest to me
In the ways of which he was depraved
And consumed by the ultimate halt
Of the only one
That could stop him in any pursuit
To be a madmen
And I a mad-legion
And we chose multiple
Like
She’s more coworkerS than one
Singular to plural in one like 3
And that’s what I see in you
Like a kennel kerneller of Some-Sort
I wish I could’ve shot you down every time you pulled up on me
With your eyes gold
And a hat
And flecks of black
And your shades you never wore
And like oil you struck me in fracture
For stupid cowboy dialects and I’m so angry and missing you more
And it would be wasteful to treat you like a hero and not more a myth and very much a legend
And say
I should be nicer to him now that it’s passed.
Bullshit and all the scheduling awakens.
The noted rifts.
The notacions
The my phone is a different screen-reading on the same than their phone.
Pull Up the Scrabble Tiles, Tim
We ghotazaas us a damn ghost on our hands
Like we didn’t film those hunting paranormal documentaries
And 3 days time
Crimes of the Paranormal
And I will durksrs you in Omen when I graced yo ass in distance
Asking where he’s at to watch
raising Arizona
You bizarre muffin man of lame
And my hair was parted 2 inches to the left
Perfectly with a lil snub
Left for rattail comb alignment
And the spewed antiseptic how you like hand mouth
Made it
And the hair looks
Better and I love
Smelling like mint
And my blind ass loves your Aura hue in slate + onyx.
Black billies and the beetles are red
And you’re right.
The Speaker -+ is Yours.
Volume. Frequency. Clarity grain.
Sing me another song, heereesssdruffJohnny.
And I’m so sad
And so lame
Every time you touch my heart in memory with another memory and a memory more in trail
When I remember every time I listened to it. Back to when we made it. Back to when we remastered it. Back to 7 years before or forever I hummed it for ya.
You know my algorithm but not my ways
And know how I do my own and hide from you
And only now
I’m doing it how you like which is what I want and I stopped doing it your way which is how I like.
Call it a micked mited glove if a mouse
Eating nuggets.
We go way back.
And now you’re not here
And still here everywhere like you promised.
Like you have been.
Working on a computer and fact-checking me to pursue more conspiracy in a love story for the ages
And I told you you’d haunt me in hell
And tv stays in
All night.
I sleep in red and you sleep in blue.
Why?
But blue keeps you awake.
How else am I gonna miss you
By 3:41am.
And I check my watch.
Right in time.
I didn’t sleep.
Back to meditation.
It becomes all but free.
And Freedom, is all I need
And smell your corny ass trail.
Slight me another Low-ball Glass, pardnuh.
I’ve done this shitz before
And now you’re gonna try it
My way.
The window is slimmer in my corner office
And you still are
Dancing with me
.
Fields of May,
A funk tune.
Former Detroit Thanks You
And it’s pretty grand all these years later
Giving Nashville a chance
To use
My
Equipment.
It’s pretty low scale now.
Always just been a hum + tune.
And once the magical traveling iPod Touch 4th Gen
Of Blue +
Magic Piano
Dawdling tunes.
I learned Viola Fingerwork on Piano Scales.
“I knew you were balanced.”
Limbo, a game I made.
Purgatory, is much longer story.
From a Dante to Machiavelli type of mind.
He rather have that and a bucket of peaches anyways,
In good company.
The Family
Is.
petrichor - archive 