ketchup & eggs

i haven’t got a lot to say for myself. something heroic in the wind. another bit sleazy in the undercut. everyall moves Are made with worry and care and silence that’s too much, upheaves torrents of pleads. blank steps plead. Lover’s steps reaps. but the steps are stepped by steps et al. cruelness? of a different meaning of how could you ever? What a weird way to breathe.

Came as an apple
got sauced up in cider,
left an orange tree to
make up a foot-job lazy
Came back by coincidence.
no oranges on the tree. yet
seams along schemes my luck
fell over, turning the same leaf
over and oh… er. Peanut butter & jelly
and pickle sandwich for supper.
Never had supper before… wait, i think,
am wearing a black cock-ring from, well,
before last night. ‘the world may end if
I took it off.’ 
bruise like a snake
joked because i was rushed and joked
a rainy day.
jerking off and firing blanks.
everybody puns my name-o, adorably.
an icebreaker. easy

…answering expectations. He was scared. Closer toward doing nothing. Anything he could. Fired, slashed, punched, kicked and checked his hair. That nearing of self. Where could I, The littlest things to do. (this felt a little like starting.) Someone that has only lost everything by layers was what he woke up to. Still, he smiled sweetly as if to say, “good morning.” the last person you wanted tell ‘be yourself’ to. The air around him, breathed. The wild unknown, the incomprehensible angst of beyonds, “weird stuff,” he interjected, “i get it. …i think.” then he made a goofy face. how… ironic.

Ma- ol’ chinese; to carry, horse, what? which? mother.

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