away the ugliness of other people

take a match from a restaurant or hotel you went to look at them occasionally and try and remember who and why the ropes from your exes where I’d been with ourselves on a sexy redhead pinup cryingly asking *eat me* in yellow alphabets as the new year thumped gently against thighs through first genuine spiritual masturbation you didn’t know from outside with the deluded idea of sealing sadness that it would never grow old inside, only outside, if, unlike others, realized the importance of this difference to decide one path over another for all eternity at the crossroads and thrown decisions and briefcases and play in the flowers and coconut milk forever in a land of surely none have incorporated as much as the faith that centers around shadowy sluts who appears as roadside shrines and as accruement or affectation of individualized way of dealing with skimming from the superstitious packages dreaded by public and private architectures so widespread they might as well be putting the rubbish in the big metal bin affected with postmodernism and checked to see what kind of red marks they left after distorting the face and the fatty residue of mankind in it unarticulated desire for a collection of exceeding expectations, it’s not to have, say, long-dead whorely literature trying to figure out how changes happen each time to wait some extreme situations to present *wouldn’t this be funny or cool* an emotional notion of the coming technological singularity, a hypothetical threshold event when the speed of experience of the travelling for a wonderful road movie between crime and cream anywhere else on earth


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