Always With The Brand
Helsinki Brussels Brussels Halifax. All places I want to go with you? Ha, Belgium was no, not even Brugge, but I would like to fuck in the loft of a barn (on a high hill looking down upon a russet dream) older than Texas, somewhere in Connecticut far from NY (with a blanket or standing up, hay, no, number three, not even) with a green pasture splitting the trees as the lay falls away to its point opposite the golden light of a dying season (call it life, well, call it garlic salt, Wound). The shivery smell of warm tequila? I can't write past my retardness. Slow? Mentally challenged, I member. I'd feel sorry but the my left foot Christy Brown (Crumlin, Dublin) or someone fixed worse, and also doing more, would just make me feel sorrier; like getting behind a politician; or believing that anything in any of this matters to the wheel. But it does, more than any periods, and oil. Sagebrush Tumeric Saguaro. My other baby, same mother. Back to the fucking. The sunrise goes quick around here. Brugge is fine.
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