The Dialectics of Your Mom as Realized through the Analytical Tropes of Post-Malarkeyan Academia

 I wish I had the deep thoughts for a proper extensive update that I really want to do right now. But I don’t. Anyway gears will shift then shift again no ground is stable I am carried on the waves I am being carried to my destiny I am strapped to the mast you love me I love you back I love many people and that is part of my lifestyle I know it is superior to nothing else


I was in a show Thursday now I am not because it has been postponed

I do not hold onto anything too tightly

I am no longer trying to be successful in a realm meant for feminine people and twinks, BUT, we do comment on the same things (old Hollywood) just in slightly different ways.


My words flow like the enthralling cascading of your hair joke is on our readers because you don’t have much I love you and we are joined together for eternity eternity being just one grain of sand that an unhoused-for-today dude is sleeping on top of


I arch my back in a gothic archway I am a sexy goth butt in fishnets nothing more I was a dream and a cloud that then disappeared with a tropical storm but we do not live in the tropics


You are beautiful you are handsome we are married we are perfect we are alchemized we have no cares in the world we are we in supreme all-external merging money is fake gd is dead I need a job that isn’t just blowing


Come see me at the open mic tonight it will actually be closed like my mind and my heart and my memory of passwords it will be profound like my junk (plunging outwards or inwards this time?) it will be spiraling like my mood it will be free like none of our time and it will be delicious like a birthday cake


Oh I forgot writers are on strike in that case fuck you

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