In The Moment: A Time For Truth

Sometimes I think about things and sometimes I don't sometimes there's a blob of words like phlegm like goop that I can't swallow and sometimes I hack and it sticks to the screen and I can't wipe it off cuz its been over the time limit thingy and I talk to myself in the street, but not the sidewalk, and there was a girl once with a green jacket or maybe it was two girls and a blue jacket and I was tied up in it tyed-dyed died up in it like that one pillowcase over there under the bed but maybe not and my thoughts taste like chicken or is it fish and I should brush my teeth only now I can't cuz the floss makes my fingers go all purpley and my fingertips are cold whiz bone tap biopsy and maybe I'll just melt instead melt into melt away like those blops of icecream that stick and slide around on the top of your shoe and a kid crys at it to come back today I spelled maybe with a seven but it didn't matter since maybe it's right anyhows right right but theres a cut on my hand in the shape of pi but I don't really like pie do I or carrots but maybe that isn't the point point of the carrot with the ranch and choking wet and white and there's something else too about a girl with a boy's name and mint chocolate sameness but it's the same as that other time when my cat's pajamas wouldn't fit and my toe got bit and I feel fell flat on my back and it all went black elevator music in my head dead dad up side the downside but the chocolate was alright and I can't remember up sticky up there where my simile mimicry went and gone south with the rest of the loons. But that's alright.

The End

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