legalese, baby, legalese language is not to be trusted floating ocean sky beach gloryhole of snow I want to say so I do wounded with flowers I crawl from the $ store to the hovel I pay 1700 a month for to die in comfortably surrounded by bright & broken things I have collected (a mute protest against death) a spiritual ritual practiced by the miserable animals of this period otherwise known as now
Windmill 87