break or stretch-out or pull and twist to its breakingpoint at least
and then do it a few more times andm
mhy gutsssssssss

are you kidding?
i don't see how this could map well enough at all in any universe
should be some record
but so deep spaceblowout psychic slingshot across my guts
but so bring them to us, bring me out and around and let me finally have one or two and creep softly
everyone okay the aftermath of last i don't know where i stand or where i'm from or what i'm leaning on
i do not know if things will be okay
things will be okay
things will be okay
seems like everyones sobbing this morning
this dirty sludge sludge swewy mud smell in my mind
for instance
where's that from

have i finished burning this house down yet?

this morning i poured chip crumbs in my eggs as a delicious but puzzling atonement for sins i have yet to commit

they were salt & vinegar

i think that
'candyflipping'
as a term
really undermines the potential psychological/behavioral positives conferred by the individual substances and REALLY does a number on any acceptance of potential (i think massive) therapeutic use/combination
because
to 'candyflip'
it sounds so (indulge me) flippant
really, though, candy? fuck. flipping? fuck. willy wonka'd be at home here.
this is exactly how the 60's killed psychedelic study
for almost fifty years

meet you onthe astral plane

you have to binge before you can walk

no but in actuality maybe everyone should as general safe practice take time out once in a while to crumble implodingly inward for a period let go of the reins for a time and get dragged through the dirt of a life you're not trying to keep up with for once and let the frontal lobes drip off you for a while, cook a little under the sun, and get eaten for breakfast

kkkhhkhkkkhkh

always empty space outside the place you left right away what it is that this is is there never any empty space never a vacuum only the environment the frame the cosmic microwave background radiation the white noise of communicating like micro facial expressions expressed in the execution of a lie fleeting but there while any vacuum is abhorred or impossible there is no such thing as an isolation not no man is an island but that there are no islands not surrounded by some medium (exempla gratis water) what everything is is presence itself by nature there is no nothing or if there is it is outside the bounds of what we would call the universe (or adjacent facets of the multiverse) never any holes in the senses the raw red hypersaturated stimulation of the senses to escape from into only chilled static waters just-above freezing and totally still holding your head under until your skin feels white and twitching and your lungs are lightning but your head is numb and you get up and shake off and sit back down on the couch and turn on the tv before you even wake up

outside of outer space in the belly of the beasts a lit door seen from too far away accelerating through vacuum stops on the tip of your tongue
/
somethings to think about:
***the future*****

day/month

staticuses:
~sunborned
~headache hurts
~dream law/law dreams
~too much fire?
~where where where when when when and how
~everyone everyone everyone everybody

one line poem

something/anything/nothing/everything

i miss the future

A SPOEM BY THE DOG WHO FELL ASLEEP ON MY KEYBOARD
the time of day
is another way to
say one thousand shades of grey too (((()))
glaze made form(ica table... what are you?)
maze made soft(soft=metavore)
other thoughts
and minds can stop
and drop the glass
you look at drinks
or suck the mind you
meant to break but
this poem is about writing poems you don't like while drunk

man..>fuck similarity space and all y'all's multidimensional cognitive representations.

other news: stomach ulcer/virus overcome by force of will

gonna change my name to hannibal
maybe just rex

think i might have stomach ulcer. will keep yall updated

oh yeah! i remember!
"some weird sin"!

XTRA CRDT:
i ride upon a fieldmouse
i was dancin in the slaughterhouse

any lots
s