Chewing pencils upon the need to speak
Road had become not quite roady
Respiration system aired Kurt Cobain’s voice
Think fast think slow now regress,
Another inch
Laundry issues, I doubt a wet left sock
And floss, every page many dots
In a desert quarry, clouds excused the rain
Deliberately, running into an exhaustion of thoughts
Dirt turned nourishment, a camel’s second choice
A steeper curve to ride on this very petit cœur
Marching impartially, because there is no because
Just removing a complaint.
