corrosive joseph

combined with spelling mistakes and fake laughter

joseph sits on his rock waiting for disaster.

back door tokens for broken laughs at a junk shop full of dreams

stepped out sideways for a rest from the crowd, saw nothing

so i moved back into town for a while, drown in the dizzy smells of

an intoxicated carbon city.

her crispy flesh still fresh on my tongue, foul and fabulous sauce to top off a good evening of disaster in the kitchen.

no one said they liked duck

i didn’t really care.

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