of non-assembled reflections

Tomorrow I will get into my car an drive to a warehouse to pick up magazines to distribute. I offer no solutions for the whens and hows of whatever it is that binds anyone to anywhere. Perhaps there’s a need for good questions? As air is what is beneath the thing the drives the person somewhere. Sure we have to face the museums of surrounding coffins, but how we do that is the we who is that we we’re losing focus, dwindling to eye-decay; they, the eyes, fall out and pancake flat morph into clay balls and begin to roll. Where do you think they’re going? (let’s follow). They are spinning down streets between the brains of thinking, and they’re headed for places we can’t imagine. They contain in their structures, codes of non-assembled reflections, all of which are hard pressed against the inner-lining of their fabric. As the codes press intense from within outward, buildings bulge from their sockets and fall out spilling the children of their organs onto the car-seats of grocery stores and technology. Now everyone is concerned for their children, for their childrens’ upbringing, for the safety and health of their children; everyone is in a panic for the good life of their children. Is there belief in this equation? In many cases yes, like now it is required to memorize the contents of grandpa’s armpit; it’s a desert in there; now we understand why suburbia and toothpaste. You get normal flavors as the sentence rolls by; the people behind the sentence were children to families of mis-shapen sounds; asdf jkl; somehow helps the brain to remain transfigured. Tomorrow I will get into my car and drive to a warehouse to pick up magazines to distribute.


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