#25

my temple of ruins rising from a place in humanitys collective heart to soothe the lonesome soul by the blues method and cleanse the newly powdered nose of all makeup and artifice because i want to see your pores breathe and i actually do believe you are more beautiful without anything covering you up my sad pie and i am so sorry for anything that i have ever done that hurt you like a bird accidentally killed by a stone aimed at another bird flying its way over the pacific ocean and through the orient and into the ancient land of babylon where no one was ever born but these words themselves striving against the plots of the basic building blocks of beards and before the macintosh that keeps appearing in my mind which is infested with an internal sort of lice that dont really do me any harm but are a real scratch and bother so i cant really concentrate on any one thing for more than a few i forget what i was talking about and immediately i regret making such a dull joke and i promise you i dont think it is funny so dont feel bad if you dont laugh like a stuck pig turned into pulled pork