upfuck forever

i don't need food; i need a belt. vault red blitz tastes like a berry of some sort shat in my mouth and set it on fire. a dream about reality is more frightening than my chicken ribs. moving fast and fucking up, putting on airs and adjusting to toxins. the longer i hold out the more it will mean when i collapse. no one makes sense, these songs aren't long enough, and i wonder if everyone else can see the veil over my eyes. i fully understand everything in the world and it just makes me bored and antsy. i want to give everyone cookies, but i can't muster the strength to go into the kitchen. making a hot dog is like giving birth, and there's no hospital in sight. sometimes i'm absolutely convinced that a few more decibels will cure me, one more chorus, that last drag. all i ever get is dizzy and tired. if you touch me i'll fall apart inside and shrug outside. i can remember anything i want by avoiding stagnation. WHATEVER.

i put colorful plastics on my bike. they rattle and glitter. fuck your austerity.

everyone needs to see 'winter passing' the movie. like, now.