morning broke out the backside of a truck-stop the end of a line a real, rainbow-likeing, luck stop where you could say i became chronologically “sick and ashamed and happy”. put ten bucks in just to get the tank topped off. then, i found a place it’s dark and it’s rotted. it’s a cool, sweet kinda-place where the copters won’t spot it and i destroyed the map, i even thought i forgot it, however, every-day i’m dumping the body. it’d be better for us if you don’t understand. it’d be better for me if you don’t understand they don’t know how old i am, they found armour in my belly from the 16th century, conquistador, i think. they don’t know how old i am, they found armour in my belly. passion out of machine-revving tension, lashing out at machiine-revving tension, brushing by the machine-revving tension
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