J a n u a r y  2 9 , 2 0 1 6

Sometimes I just want to stay on the bus and have it ride on forever. With no thought to cloud my mind and no temper to weather my senses. It can pass by like that, life it will. If you let it. No stops, no breath. A continuous journey, a flat line. 

It's not living, it's livid. A dividend, of windows, of rain dues. of windy voices. A vision of a division, a derision, an oblivion. It's not vivacious, volcanic, voluptuous or voluntary. Let it not wind you up, serve it plate, and tie it round. Escape the space of solitary sanity, of sobriety in sober as sober. As stoic as stoic. Salivating on solutions on suction and sucking and skulking. Sulk. sulking. Cages caged in caves of causality. A constant constantly on the cusp of concentration convulsively concrete. Craving crust and crossing cost. tempers tidal, time ticks total. type is touching. chins are moving. Mossy mousy mouth

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