It’s all slipping.  It’s sliding.  Incongruous.  Untoward outwardly forward.  Mellifluous.  I put my skin on backwards to see myself from the inside, out.  I wonder what went through that medical supervisor’s mind when his employee shot him.  “Hey, this is what I am on the inside.”  I don’t know.  It’s fucking tragic.  I dislike quite a few people, and I have some former employers I despise, but to take a life over some job?  Poor soldiers.  Taking lives is their job.  I like the smell of lilacs and jasmine.  Fragrances are soothing.  Nuclear winters in Korea.  Skiing in a HASMAT.  It’s chipping away at my reprieve.  50 + 15 in Tennessee just like the feudal days.  Hot for Teacher.  I Wish they could all be California Girls.  Ransack this sadsack.  Trump’s daughter’s boyfriend is a Democrat.  Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 WILL SAVE US.  My bones taste of resin and cinnamon.  Osteomancy.  Neuropathy.  No, neuropathic.  No, you’re pathetic.  It’s the 9to5 and stayin’ alive and the burning dive of Icarus.  It’s all slipping.  Perfidious.  Perditious.  Pardon Me.  There’s a hole in this dimension and the whole place is being turned inside out. and out. I still miss you.  I haven’t seen your spirit in some time.  Maybe you turned out.  inside, out.  Without a doubt.  What it’s all about. Doubt.

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