alborn psyformica dreams…
(creeps on this)
what bitter wind blows the stragglers back to this new town? and why does it taste so sweet.
tappity tappity tappity she goes, and all the wor(l)ds spiral around her head. ya, this time the onceler’s got the thing.
gargantuan mammoth growls have psycled through the yard. (can you believe that under the new moon I was born this very day? it’s a paradox, if you know the details) and while eating eggsalad sandwich cake and munching on delirious madcap orgami malted balls.