something needs to crack. the best intentions leave me tired and yawning. only in the aftermath of a climax is one left sprawled and hungry and drained- drained like old age is life planned out with plastic measuring cups. it must be refused. how to live faster harder and crackling? how to… how to, combust? i want to be something risen from the sea. let’s live like electricity. out from inside escapism and into crazy. driven mad would we be perhaps free?
to be transcendatory.
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