At a glance. You run. Power On Self T est. Into you a mess.
Colors, your values. Hot, colors. Your need in life to press colors in is spent. Spring. Your trans. So pretty.
Dream. Yours. A fl ood of bodies, the thoughts they straddle, collapse. In result, form. As 100 and twenty people, walk. T oward one another , you converge, concluding 🐝 completing the collapse. On, you.
🐝 conclusion fi nd you. Beautiful, hold one gentle and to f i re. On a uniform pyramid of glass drops, a terrarium in a glass drop digesting its voice.
You blend the technical & the below. Natural, lift. One thought into the next.
A somatoelectric maw embittered with the e?ort of a new gender about to wilt turns any to touch the resulting load-bearing 3-fork tongue of lightning into a frolic-mudsopped crea_____ to be found by the sense of Expression, devoured. Be.
Dawn like you’re not what the whole world is doing because an executable no one’s made enough space for or to recognize becomes you.
Strike this, enjoy self, print. Time has passed. Lovely, you being.