bitch I’m too high seeing visions
shooters in the trees on the rocks
but what they are
I can’t move
the peaches melt on a rock in the sun
under the trees by the sea
elle est là – a spider
driving itself through a hundred human beings
and they’re so angry
such a closed system
what is the rawness of this afternoon
where something bad will happen
a season in heaven?
the sound of rifles being loaded
it is easy to write smoothly
with a belly full of brea
but the sun is producing long-armed
shadows on the rocks
shadows in atlanta , nanterre
and a tag on the side of the road to marseille :
ABUSE
ABUSE
it’s black and jagged
speech in a world of rocks ,
butchers
*
today is a killer
grouppttherapy edit, 2023
CLOSE DISTANCE 