This page is property of the greenest flag on earth.
It is registered to memories of a draining family friend.
What I say next will describe military options of a hunted deer.
By the end of my time here you will be violin salesperson for Orchestra Of The Tundra.
You will conduct an asteroid collision which will annihilate Octobers and Thursdays.
I will make bullhorn announcements disguised as flirtations with high school cheerleaders.
Together we will free centuries of entertainment struggling to read its cribnotes.

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gruesome details of 
billions dead rise with the 
smoke of the nude, 
killing the trifling 
children of violence with 
excavations of 
Roman coconut water. 

surly blimps of 
conversation 
hover over every 
child's head, 
quivering like sewage, 
fishing through 
fields of sun that
crackle with 
electric flowers.









spin.



 spin.


      spin.