As contract work

This is not business

none of this is business

There is no method

to cure oneself

years might run I remain the same

the same treated customer.

Texts turn to monotone, yells turn their heads away. So stand up to greet another new hormonal salvation. Reflects, rambling, senseless movements senseless movements are the walks you took and they took you back to singularity from the alike states; and they've got their borders open and we cross the customs with our presents and pay a drop of blood without sugar starved to coma stares and twinkles make apathetic diseases responsive to whatever comes second there is no answer to what comes first every time definitive fact is not me, not you but the suffering self. Years might run and I'm past the parental beating, rude is under my tongue.