Showing Up Early To An Abortion Clinic Bombing
If I feel greedy, it’s due to the cocaine coursing through my veins being too speedy. I don’t want to feel needy. I’d rather not lean into a fiend. I’ve seen through what I’ve been through. A clean hit is piss-poor juju. A new secular itinerary can’t localize the folks I bury. Wary from inter-dimensional, non sequential adventures on ketamine. I’ll give my spleen for a clean restroom in which I can administer a medicinal dose of mushrooms. Cyclical redundancy shines through holes in synthetic profundity. I’ll knock a Procter off the highest horse as a reminder to stay under me. To some degree, I feel the heat that comes from others not being discreet. Even if I’m piss-poor, I stay nourished and clean my feet. The drum will beat no differently since this isn’t an epiphany. Skittish equestrian defenestration is the only known method for revealing public records to entry-level masons. The space between an ancient scheme and modern thought ought not to be the conspiracy that knows no fear.