i love the contours of your mind
where everything glides
tectonic plates dissolving into clumps
slowly weaving tendrils
the porous nausea of it all
your mind, the tissue
sorting dreams from nightmares
speakers speak
retain relations
not as clever as you think
thought refuses to
impress itself
forms ahoy! holey irony
desperate sailors on the desolate shore
of
tick tock
captain hook's glock (cock)
these are my thoughts
GLARBLAAEEEEEEIIIIYESH!!
enlightenment:
the only progress
is
dissolution
poop
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