

Ask MeI've turned into this Bit-lip, chipped-hip girl with a Vice In her chest, something that spins Acidic remarksAsk Me
[Quick quips] To my every
Hateful Whim
Now it's six, now it's
One hand and one finger past noon and Where am I? In a parked car, listening to a parked life as she Spills herself to me in sentences written on Torn notebook paper, each one
- each collection of words - A different view on the same person
I'm caught in a hailstorm of [repetition] As she retells her story Same as the last three-sixty-fiv
--
"If you go parachuting, and your parachute doesn't open, and your friends are all watching you fall, I think a funny gag would be to pretend you were swimming."
Member of *Ultra-Fractal
--
Automatons gather all the pieces so the world may be increased
In simulation jubilation for the builders of the body of the beast
--
Come down to my room
I was thinking about you
and made a pass at myself
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