Strotshit

Dunk like funk certainly punk hunk that's sunk to out tongue out sung drunk dunk too young a pun bung fun so rung so rung, done.
)

R

Reminder of how I used to call it with the dignity,

Do you care like dare?
One massive word a broad streak action taken by the dive from our difference from our hearts to the way we dress.

Bitch I'm in the 212

Second hand pip

I've got two months, Bree come on, seriously make this that studio dream. Paint everywhere. That's how shallow I can see it because I'm poverty - that player I've dropped the rankings but next to my nest I am. I'm just wishing and dreaming of more because a time material as soft as felt couldn't stroke a rhythm against my cheek for acceptance to be who I am.

I dream of groups, and they're men in capes and hats. And were strolling on schedule, talking isn't computerised nor a stress to all the places that we as one confide and wanna go, as we pause for the distance that eventually seems given by people who's slow slight slice of Alice was either left behind to conjure by junkies numb to the belief of a coreless cross of the bottom joint..- A rank subdue and obvious to respect.
A group I want to roam, For the one's who dream of cold fog as breath, stems for posts, legs for a stern agent for that place in time that typically that we all would want is to give it nothing but simplicity: A conversation converted to an "oh yeah, that was mad. You're sexy but keep talking as your magic is brewing" So I will not disrupt you to tell you how cool, or how much I appreciate what was said to deliver, because I don't care.. I know there's more than one way to move forward and be game good and inconsiderate.. Asking if we're on the same page, this momentarily stance scores.. All the time.

I've sky rocketed into a level of proposition and incidental I watched it grow from wind that unravels by itself strength by a great inland intuitive experienced too an exemplary drunk with but no doubt he plays with really long nails, grown with a curl so a challenger on the edge he stands next to blue flames.

We need

Conversation as the denominator.

I know the answer but I don't know how to get there. Spoken easily, mentioned a complement but soap on the bed, slippery if dropped and yes just like the demeanour so is the packaging.

And it hut me with a surprise left, got the core as it idle reptile bubbly so excited, flicker confidence, baby sitter, baby sat, worms and knowledge grope maximum violin grand playist

Ratch is back eating the rations sanctioned like kids ate the bacon

I wanna get fuck off tattooed on me deadset bitches I'm not my sister dry up already you used piece of disease

Fast cars branded and zipping a fast move like the soluble formation to preparing dinner and cooking upon a stove as and still. So inanimate

Then there's us, imagining if we could hold an echo before we know what it is, and given the heads that lean forward as the volunteers , we dream.
A line of them
Bowing to a plethora
Scratched and bright plume
So carelessly yanked before the speed
Like slaves to the acceleration,
as if
It turns them on,
As if it actually makes them sleep at night.

I just wish

Drawing like steph
Again
All this sketch over my fizz
Of reach and curves to my arch
Places are the circular
Those tails I draw now cos swapped details
Poor rawings, my drawings, my sister has cornered me
Into rain tainted blotched robo ribbon painted
Into my paper
The atrocity my emotive, rocked
Down cheaper than it ever is.
Cos the world's worth to me, but my artist inspires me to search Materialistically so that merge is a lean on tasteful congeniality,
In my daily cos all my drawings blended to the one single line as sexy time ripe up on the lined like I'm sorry, friend, I'm sorry if you got stolen by ribbon detanglement before the fire was stolen cos you were the one who taught how to walk through my door and steal my work off my floor
Cos you wanted the burst and flaunted and dispersed aspired alongside it as the coward who overheated. For flattery it sang to me that spreading like you were doing the cat burglary and then selling under the same spelling,
as your own hone

*"Local talent sucks"*

that's a weird insult ~~

You don't sniff yourself you trust yourself and parent as the fanciful, wants and needs

Swivelling like a prick in a two dollar shop.
Stuck to the walls it's all heavy and we're all hung up to see what should come down. We're all planted by our knowledge so at this point our ankles implies any savvy leverage. This feeling is customary to impulse. This is the syndication of choice and intimidations, grand complication as the incomplete.
I say this as if we're not working to make a trust to the idiosyncratic groove before we dance ourselves.
How we dance we already know how this will turn out, before knowing

I write of a place not so essentially still but reknown to an even capacity we understand as the level of basic enrichment, and fetch abolishment within the moment, one emotive we do not have time for.
So we think back to what we were doing in this experience, as it drops to a classification and a realty that has been a filial publish by people individual wholesome. We so then trust our instinct and flavour, our taste especially kids forevermore as the band manager we trust won't spend our life savings.
So the choice we consider during an interim momentarily, the eradication we acknowledge and so does the band manager just in case, and the intimidation we pinch before it all.
As the consideration and intimidation fades, the monumental throbbing premonition plays as money that is paid by us, as the moment, as the throb, as we scale, weight what's in front of us up, what we put in front of us whilst we have our feet planted, how much we can take we think of our strength.. All the time:    in the 'moment', in the choices made in this moment, what emotions shift and merge, as the demeanour to decision.
I write of this as a captured stillness but we spend a natural swelling, that we look after ourselves lawfully. A procedure we know and have then obeyed after the alongside has and is the place we believe in and parent from yearn and
This could be focused as an illusive appreciation to selflessness or naturalism which as when we do look at the overall and simply compare it to ourselves, which is easy.. What do we spend more time on.

These days

Shakes amongst words spoken tremors as the erratic ovation sterile justification. Ejaculation mere beautiful less worthy momentarily serving purpose of love economic possibility. These men that cum stand deplorable and facaded standing next to my manic insanity.

A relation
to the sinking blood a petal from a rose straight up to shameful, these days a stench yearns so against it a union of momentarily sniffing, we will live to forget, that moment we spend alone.

One of my own. A jezebel urges to grow but instead falls out to amazing and has to deal with self disceit and lack of energetic consistently.
Left alone with this as the stench of a gash I remember, as preempted destiny.. I'm still recovery from purchasing placing and saving all those people living in the public and walking as trees so can't you see I've already lost the rector as a measure to a gender of a quiet war, and as a daily contrary, successfully I ended up as standing all the time, and all those times after the fkn world chucked us into a silenced family so overall, fate would lead, I guess, but pity we all broke and lost influentially besides the solo wolf pack I regrettably found myself in without fail, every time, after getting chucked in the deep end.

So much time wasted to only believe it's where the ruins stand, we will revolve.
I mean, it's almost an influence, fuckin far from popular encouragement. A blend is what we believe in solely foreseer to keep moving, which is almost the illusion of trend setting but fashionably, this has lacked immensely so I worry and always think about this branded riddle: we're scared - that's enough, so - Why are we all finding ourselves as individuals instead of shipmansy, cos being cool isn't what gets me but how is there so many shallow footpath rockers that walk alone like their forevermore thinking they're the best they can be.. Which does matter but how does that fuckin vibe of accentuation that that's what matters most as whole to the days of our lives and especially, the days worth living and waiting for. I just wanna say,

Look, I know your sad and you're hurt but that's not exactly the way to believe in yourself as you're the one living the day, the day don't live you. We sound quietly this unfortunately silently and confides to me, really, that we can do without - someone just for a day.. And these heights and consistory that we evolve into is in fact a passionate conjectory as the consistuency that from one person to the next, they're just waiting for them to see something that's defines worth, and ridicules to fouhf off that question floating above and asking as the next to every cunt for some typical rectification. I swear, there were people that cared there for their Soldier and as architects and holders, when I cried all of you avoided addressing the minority, which in some sense I was too busy and too well fed and on a boat, purely of my own, that's rocking and as I was tumbling to those who stopped, instead of turning to the side like your path is your full ownership that you could never- ever even begin to believe you consistently fetch whatever crosses on your way to whatever futuristic fulfillment you believe so solely and literally a premeditated automated hopefulness that's hectic to the last step, and what emotions that have you at the edge, and for the delineated conversation so brief, and somewhat thoughtless, and a cheap  lateral to your short preconceived idea to preconditions. I cried before I was always told essentially by those passed me over and over without anything but a poor kneal down, hand-on-the-shoulder, a typical degrade from eye contact and that off inch that widens by nothing ever at these points these people and I interacted but it was never actually said or brought up that unfortune. As a lack of words that could have been said, and a lump of words moulded into what was said only sat on a string by the disappointed that appeared so greatly, as a mutuality and the fear and foregone mistake of balance, they kept telling me they didn't know what to do with the world either- and just give up. Cos that's what we all believed in until I saw an ample of degratitude and a prosecution of habitual profanity that we all at home implored to either interest of brutual and sequential interaction, beings of city-goers, and the decisive splits in conversational idiosyncrasies that, we all pause to defend and also try to tred amongst and subdue to the fact: of wholesome desire, that we all religiously and consistingly are asking for some self recognition wherever they can get it. To a walk that lessens the idea to waste time as it's little to assumption this days we are walking through want to remain as evidence, as solemn and comparitive.

I won't bother with the obvious idea that there's more spendage to be done, all the time but regardless, of the strut everyone is allowed to exemplify as the judgement to no one but themselves, that they wait to feel sexy, and what they believe as the degree of acceptance and especially focus, of compliment and good feels they'd slut around for if they knew how.

Those who swoop passed me and pause for a fanatical chat and brief reminder that it's not normal to be crying abouts, and especially alone otherwise someone will stop because they feel for you, or feel sorry for you- but that these days is the same thing.

Polarisation

No more demands like synthetic rubble, home schooled rap showed the political justice like as if systematic and everyone else wanted to sit with them.
The flaws in my reflection now I'm higher than the clouds, lower than my own bow, shocking seldom the rest is accounted for.
I'll hear champions cry hypertension and fine artistic fidelity like run this sure shit is shitter than we don't know either every put down or it's us up top shitting bricks to make a wall, so we don't tumble just crash and fall. As recognition of that precision basically it came to me that I believed in more. Turning tables I liked spun out cos getting dizzy was likely hereditary, that dreaming couldn't get passed me.
As this incredibly means I kick back importantly and god damn, with my family, and from my bed was this revolutionary.
Slave to the inanimate we prayed for essential stillness to capture it as it fractured it and made it the easier realness that was full lovely yeah?
Understanding fare of youth we worked the curve of our wishes about the selfless. Haunted was the family. Boy scouts, sashes and love, which then, and today still shows us the lesson of the anticipated nod we ga
We have more to worry about as stage tremors seem a doubt to those who once mattered a threshold nemesis against our best bellows we conducted as we sat back and watched how sick we kick back, listening to the wind and what sucks us in and busts it.
The reminiscent was separate to what we counted, like compared to these days it's not just growing up that ruins it. Because we controlled it. And we wanted it harmonious.
Segregated at this justice. Once is enough to put value to it, and attend to it, like we're used to it.
We grew up once.
The past we construed to a segment to worth and what it meant, then, or excitement was the lenient and we couldn't resist it.
Of course we agreed with stepping stones we ate for oxygen as we thought of thick air and it's origin, how to cradle instead of a wretch handle that could of been.
As life was free for us, nothing but that god forsaken sight of what's gone by as seen instead of desperately trying to hold tight, like we believed in something like living differently with an ongoing cowardice set believing in us as the better, religiously. To live simply and for the ridiculed shrug off we meant when we said bugger off, and I don't care anymore, it's gone.
But we reframed sadness as if were a border we could pencil in whenever justification threw us the pitch. A task of emotion we were obsessed and dressed more appointed to the tyranny.
Burnt crusts like shit nights, it was never about looking on the bright side.
A story unwritten to be told as a current that we would struggle as an on purpose detriment these days cos I never paid then, I played but spread the method as if it were a real trend, like "what are doing, cunt" was more important, as that's what mattered and eventually a dual to my imagination- these days, anyway. I'll preach it. We knew the riddance and waves like craftsmanship, like a dominion we were rulers and makers of lustful cavities we just wanted to swim through like caves.. Until someone stepped in with another lie to believe in.
I'm sure it was the Polaris scenery acting the yearn for present altitude, one that we yearned for and purely honestly, without no embarrassment.

Felony jump back right up that shit bro , ya gotta get it!