On the Moon in the year 2000

[ixtaub]

Here's to the pathetic, the dammed pathos, that boiling anxiety filling your abdomen, shitting chunky confessions, leaving a vile aftertaste but at least no stink. The only odour is a sweet suckling honey, a swollen fruit, a rack-like vice clamping your limbs, pulling you into the waking hours. You probably made a fool out of yourself. The

Comments

[sewn_to_all]

BEAUTIFUL!!!

Makesme think deep on the intoxicating nature
of l-
o-
v-
e-
L'Oh!

We (me and myself and I)
liked this piece, and wish you'd check out my most recent-
it's long, but I think you'd like

-IT!!!

[ixtaub]

yeah, I get confused sometimes, you, me, she, him ... although the world tends to make yours and mine, his and hers quite clear.

[sewn_to_all]

Yeah, I try not to think too much, these days.