people, yeah. live or dead? yeah. yeah yeah yeah.
meat, some feat, and rotten with inherent thoughts.
gripe me and fight me with the needs of your tongue.
your eyes take in less and less, shortsighted, targetless
with your skin in a conglomeration of junk. (things, beliefs)
sick with the sound, but nonsensically attracted to
the symbolic connection of fat, or bone (tissue). frictions created within
the only thing that matters is what it feels like to you
all wet, foolish, intelligent-enough.
touch it, notice it, perceive it, welcome it.
no, I’m talking to myself.