arte brut

i like you mmmmm i like big it hurts but i like it feminine words coming from the mouth of a healthy proximity of a man with shaking hands a home brew that is tasting like the sweetness of a summer day when you were seventeen and in the hands a small work of unheralded genius outsider art in the form of a poet playing with photoshop but still the roaches are climbing the walls and the fluorescent flyers hanging on the wall are disquieting and you are afraid to sit down on a couch covered with piss stains thinking you will get fleas as you snap out of a temporary blackout suddenly the lights are blinding and the cityscape gone what the fuck am i doing here

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