2010-03-18 - 11:25 p.m.
little turtle looses shell instincitvely climbs a rock to warm its blood and little legs soon kick in the beak of a flying thing and shit falls to the earth before too long somos trite in the me gusta/no me gusta world where instead words like eschatology ontology and bingo continue to spook us. I never understood the extent to which the song "A man needs a Maid" by Neil Young applied to me until my baby up and left me So now, the soap sits in a dish of its own fragrant shit and mold takes over the bathroom but because I never owned nothin' I'm not worried The renters shall inherit the earth so why mow? Why try? Why bathe?
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