Pragmatism in Oz
3/5/2026
I cook hamburgers in bursts of nine, you drive goodness with deadly force into my life in bursts of four to five kisses per second. The sun of an inner something, I almost want to say an inner network, glorious like of tree roots, shines through her crystal structure heart-form eyelids into glass upon the tablecloth, a network of wilting walking man flowers on the devil’s bedside nightcloth. The green country, the devil father with absolute knives of light unbridled good struggling limping and watering the legs of getting up out of the half-ground to commit movement, the shoulder devils leap redly off their perches to the left into Monday morning suicide when her head gets too near to my head, which feels like being a warbler egg in a nest with random dynamite, wherein the pressure to hatch is swamp-level hot in your lungs. There is a walking god smiling through the patterns in the exultant messages appearing in my phone communicating well to submit every report, exist quietly in a state of painting grids, water a nearby garden, and watch the wizard of oz with a dead goblin in the background. It is worrying at times when she floats five inches from the floor, but in some cases, that is natural, similar to the elephant that only exists as a shape of a cloud. The tin woodman had a heart all along, which you can glean at certain angles through the hole in the tip of his nose.
why life in bursts?
goodness with less than of nine
you driveth random
to say an inner: an inner something second
the sun office a walking god
-form eyelids into/through her christmas tree roots
shines unicating well to his bedside
walking man, far network of wilty garden, and watch, bridled good
her with absolutery
the devil fatten
she floats
commit movement, eating up
out offering the legs of elephant
that only suicide when her
he’s to the left
dry off their pecan
glean at a key being a warble
deadly force into mad
which feels liners vamp-level hot lining
I almost want her to hatch
messages appearital structure
hearts in the exultant gears in bursts of painting
grill ours on the devil
quietly in a statue
kisses per background
it is knives of lights and goblin in the pious
like oft five, that is natura
the half-ground too, but in some cases tablecloth
and had a heart all into Monday morning
the tin wood may green count
fuck his nose
hole in the tip, romping and wait
devil’s leper
the mad list, near to me
her egg in a nest ahead gets took
air in the press, your lungs, there dynamite
when I cook hamburgers, the pattern in my phone
computer-smiling through of four to fireport
existed, water nearby, submit every network
glorify Oz with a devouring
at times the wizard of glass
upon it from the floor, I, similar to the five inches at night
clothe the ape of a clue along which you coexist
as a struggling list through the certain angle
the shoulder