The most hateful dirt is piling up the table angrily rumping bumping my chest.

This light is misplaced. Fabric on fabric on non-fabric consuming me whole.

My body is full soft and sick. 200 grams and make sure you don’t take it raw it’s a trap you’re misguided you distract.

Mayonnaise you confuse honey and milk and happiness, stares and textures.

Never no movement. Sweat without moving, it’s a sin.

Precautious self-medicating my life: be a palace.

My soul be a bin.