Oh, damn the incessant necessity, the interminable need to say words for it to hear, for it to understand, for it to respond to. Damn the need to gobble the charred ingle, or (meaning and) not gobble the charred ingle. Damn the need to say things in a way that will not be understood. Damn the it, for not understanding, or damn the me for needing to speak nonsense. Calling it nonsense is a digging back. Calling it nonsense is refraining from calling it "nonsense". But the me. Oh, damn it.
Intentions. Intentions. Intentions.
I am allowing myself the freedom to say things that I wish to hate. I am hating the things which I wish to allow myself the freedom to say. I am not intentionally vague. I am necessarily vague, whatever that means.
Oh, death. Prepercussions. Delicious. Delicatessen. Denial. Aftersheaval.
It or me the screwed the me the up. the
anderson
Armstrong, rather, but that's a different thought.
Andes. Andes. Andes mints. Andes mnts. Andes.
Poor settings. Poor settlings. Post settings. Labels, et al.
Shtick.
