27.3.10

Miss K, I love you. This to honour your faith in me... To my biotic dysmorp confines, I counterpart all your unreported cases, into the shallow graves of their own soiled espistemol. I must lose myself in you, as you said, and this digging is the only way I can divide as you require. See how I attend you, Miss. Please see how I time my bank of defective images, whose frequency describes the flawlessness of your rituals. Miss, your symptoms are my 15 minutes of fame.

Airbag

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Damn! That sounds like a bad case.

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