the sinners are out on sunday hold down the fabric lifted mid-thigh wind sweeping up the roots on my head faces crawl, the bugs run loose big circles welcome you and buildings push you foward people unfolded and all i did was laugh but now the spooks under my eyelids miss their warm hands and tight eyes
Every morning, in recent days, I've been waking up and feeling like I have to re-check all the things that I did the day before, because it feels like I was really high yesterday. But i haven't been. So it just like some days I have been living under a layer of mind grime or something. I need a scraper.