squinting at the sun and staring into oblivion the satyr stands errect at the edge of eternity waiting for the signal from life to go fuck himself beyond belief and beliving in the individual spirit the spearhead splits from the spring struck with branded brandy dripping down his throat and pleaing for burning biting the frost and frosting the cake candidate for reelection electing out of the processes of caring but carying the weight strapped to every extremity and existing entirely inside of its own mind the beauty begats the beauty but brutishly shaven the beard stands in the mirror reflecting the mask passed between generations and so many that it was forgotten and besodden saddened and wet the face plunged into the creek gasping for oxygen half contained in the water salt crusted ocean biscuits dripping seaweed ethanol synthesized by necessitity pandented by the recipe for resistance closeing doors and windows and leaving th heat on made the house that much more contained until the sun rose and negated the lack of heat for the fifth and final time but seriously fuck this fuck this fuck this all that is all fuck. this. fuck...
you fuckisg know the date
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