Well and
Well
In my lower cases.
It's another rain in North Carolina... feel it in my legs and the woosh of wheels outside in passing traffic. Snow, too (they say). The mush of December indiscriminate whisker and cotton-eyed texting this while's all of the you's/other's snooze. Carolina? Yeah. It's been nothing shy of riches. Or maybe I've just been feeling brave. Old wubbly fingers and 5-O's showing up; 4 eyes 6 eyes 8 eyes and that ridiculous spinning gen gen gennies and getting hell for it from very cool people. Carrboro or Richmond or Roanoke or Greensboro. Guitars and the drone of a lingering E minor to take out the sips and tubes and squAwks and mildly leaving a smudge (don't take too too long); it's funny what the hell makes you strong. I'm not leaving or actively pursuing a trail this time though-- you should see the hard drive already. Besides, quantity is what it is: collective minutae. Say it---- "beh".
As it goes
Goes
And goes
I'm playing and playing and playing again. Leaving puddles even in this rain.
(eyes used for tooth support)
Below: Sam's father's vagina birdhouse. Greensboro, NC
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