Not like yesterday - this is numbers counting down,Standing in transit, the one with all the emotional Luis Vuitton luggage baggage,Bundling up your own thoughts in mass quantities for some lucky soul to buy at Costco.When you turned to look the other wayThe tree bent it's branch with help from the windand told you to take care of yourself, to do your nails, to brush you hair, to remove the toe jam you amounted and store it to adore.Can these words really mask how you feel?Is the dictionary like make-up you wear to the mall?Do you make up your feelings on the spot?Will you let us all be around you?Will your comfort comfort us?Will you ever let lose your pet rat?Let me feel your forehead.I think you've understood yourself better before.Can there be too much feeling?Will the sky become crowded with clouds?Its an eight on the gray scale from one to ten.Could you stand to eat the French fries if I spat them out and you were starving?I hear the doorbell, brb
Did sand get under your fingernails after you left this method of hyperreal numbers?you filled my thermos with credibility,I mentioned what I knew about improper integrals.nothing.Do you remember standing like flamingos? strands of shag, between our big toes and index toes,BALANCE BALANCE BALANCE,You must! Will you weave the fibers together?The Infinity sign of puke?Place it in the spicebox next to thyme(or absence of it)?Your'e a sea worthy vessel.Let me put my hand on your gillsLet me check you for leaks(its ok I laughed just as hard)
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