May showers bring serious depressive tendencies and suicidal blueberry afterthoughts

The truth will set you free

Money is love and love is sex and money aint free

neither is time, drank a fifth during the corporate lunch break, the airline’s sales operator calculating my return trip fare into my ear because I need a return trip whenever I see her

Alone in a Parking lot

The fare hike killed me; I botched the original dates, stoned probably scrolling around naked cross-eye strafing online, bargaining for a glass of mint tea


Made me think that money is just sex which is just fuck which is just ego

so Money is ego and death and airline operators, fucking

Stuttering in half speak about a return trip rescheduling that is gonna cost me

pretty pennies


A news flash. The headline is that I don’t love her anymore,

or maybe I loathe money too much,

But money is fucking and I know I enjoy that, so I probably don’t love her

and I just want to fuck.

and that’s never free. So why am I so pissed?


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