creatos cross her, i’s
win him sound drop{let}
like God’s little rains
each [and every] monad:
little totality of hydrogen atoms
in him wet world
i ain’t pray to your
Great Big Sky Scientist, i’m
want my goddess, to
kill me on dumb whim.
her drugs critch up my ne-
ck words stuck in my brainmeat
like resin{?}
in him sacred pipe
creatos’ thoughts drag their feet
(to me)

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