pissing away the hours.

what else could i used been holding down some kind of something is something was nothing was burning. that's enough to fill a desert, that's enough to fill a head. enough to jump off of somekind of godforsaken. enough to build up the tower of worth until a pillar of salt drains away what was left. what clashes elsewhere could be having so much of something elsewhere, could be some vision of dimentia, but that's not enough to fill a bird's mouth. that's not enough to fill a loophole. not enough to fall down a flight of stairs from the stars to the grass to the bees in the window. what else could be smelling something else. what could be pinned to the eye of an unseeing shred of glances.

it all just looks a little less ridiculous when it's not in my own lovely cursive.