What's goin' on Fuckhole? How it passes there and back again like a tear drop glistening in moonlight. Transistors bridge where your vanity would never go. The skin I shed is a perfume that makes water bubbles so terribly clear to me. Your cleverness helps me breathe without the need of oxygen. You have not yet reached the height of your creativity. You breath as delicately as vapors flowing towards an attractive flame. A starfish's lifelong hallucinations of gelatin pools and of actuaries floating upon the foam and reciprocal ohm. Your intoxicating reflection can but incorporate freely into the powerful surface of a disintegrating mirror set afloat upon a swarm of locusts. Your beauty is multiplexed in contemplation of your multidimensional effervescence. In your absence I am forced into finding other forms of amusement while thinking about you. How can I help but use your eyes as a means for self-asphyxiation? Your wonderfully bright soul keep the demons from torturing me. Your reflections bring happiness that rends naked glass.
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