How we have nothing to do with one-another;
A second to that;
cited: google dot com, art from yesterday 33117
tag[s]: college fiction is not yet art? , plant fiction
The lampshade people stand together almost at holing hands. It’s fund to be together.
He runs me over with his strike; and he dies. It’s odd. The experience of immortal.
Mang wants to run over plants; plants all over not just this world.
Mang says, I’m a bitch; mang: I dream about killing plants.
That’s not a dream. That’s not a dream.
My face is what a plant; it mutilates around the mouth. We are so formed into lampshades; temperate lampshades with strikes of light; and dark; mang must be stealing by just speaking.
Strike out all forms: speech.
[fiction] Theme: deranged forms of dance are still useful; so dance wins [overall] against mang. How odd; an idea-formation alone against; a press-on?
Theme music citation: MstrikeO Kamikaze
Part Forever. It smells so strongly of plant-existings ; that they heave and cough; it’s you they say, and never us. Never means forever.
Part Sometimes. Being a plant that’s that is like being colored. Right; mang grims your mouth, now too.
Poppies win; like a far beauty pageant.
cited: at the library in palo alto [one of]
gourafotadar 