Friday, June 28, 2013

note 6.28.13

dear diary: sometimes a familiar chord is pleasant, even here in the
depths of the eyegouger and spitter ward, where we are all deranged
plants in poor soil fed swill, rank swill, listening to the contanst
clamor up and down our halls, words for ghosts and such. To think that
sh*t makes corn, corn makes pork, and someday we have a feast!

No comments:

Post a Comment