Breathless, punched in the
gut seeing language evolve,
my own words falter.
Upon reading the work of a great writer
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Breathless, punched in the
gut seeing language evolve,
my own words falter.
Breathless, punched in the
gut seeing language evolve,
my own words falter.
You still up? Dude, it’s
not like the internet won’t
be there tomorrow.
Buying a domain
name to monetize content.
The new bourgeoisie.
Cost to average
household: Five thousand. Voting
the bums out: Priceless.
Where did they go? Wake.
Eat. Work. Pay bills. Each the same.
Days blink by, all gone.
Bad trim, worse blow dry.
Pitying looks from strangers.
Do I cut and run?
What we hold onto
owns us drowns us sedates us
slow death by shopping.
I type in a dim
dark room listening to surf.
There’s an app for that.
When her voice leaves her
body, recorded, it’s a
stranger who comes out.
Why they don’t do it
my way I can’t understand
’cause I’m always right.