psyki if this is the modern world.

dance club. flashing lights. a cloud. they have fingers. five. and a bartender named angel.

racing trains under bridges. let me out of the car please. i thought you were my friend. this is fucking stupid.

if this is modern. free french toast. scrambled eggs. what does that represemble?

please take me home. exclusive parties and fast cars. i'm tired of being your friend already.
knot meat i was giving a couple of quarters to a old homeless black man, or homeless old black man or black homeless old man and he said hello there young man and i said hello sir and he said thank you, and i meant to say good day but said instead, good job. this strikes me as having meaning, but instead of breaking it down, instead of stripping away my delusions i'll probably go home tonight and add more layers to them, watching tv or playing video games or looking at porn all so i can reach a state of thoughtlessness, our most desperate refuge in these modern times. a goal we might unfortunately reach. 031022
stork daddy by the way, i really like psyki's poem here. 031022
andru235 exclusive reactor cores and fast fissions. get me the ╘Χη╔ out of here. 050714
what's it to you?
who go