Tox wrote it's dust makes in the heat of the underground a blizzard of forms willowy like the young women you see about crazy as wing-ed flies reptile shape in graffito gone over
Someone who was passing, a priest? would defend the city for food would take me up into an attic room was unfamiliar yet could wind down around her childlike green eyes of a ghost
in the walls now covered in sharp little buds to recognise a car designed to settle a fight with a friend like a hart sometime being chased by dogs superhero wrestles an enemy made of steam
signs I read but that initiate me first a dog tears into a snickers I should understand or intervene but they are lost in their earnestness statement upon statement in that rose London
in your dope mobile follow corridors of lights or being rained or winter something you are dimly aware is you, the animal you will be next — that or the city the animal occasioned
met by accident in light or dark or where the noise stopped bitches that previously devoured you alight at the centre or at the gate exiting the night we'll fire them each one + not just for Tox
same electricity is heaving through the arms by which you made yourself Robert Jones the laser light that made you younger made him too a manipulator of trees Myth forms itself to brand
one buddleia fills the country you colonised from road to road tunnel to tunnel he is destroyed even as the inheritors gang up to name you Robert Jones flowers infiltrate your Christian ways
there is a sign that specially relates to you though all signs fill a basic 8 shaped space or make an 8 noise or gesture of the hand two loops frozen + conversation so dense it is written then as 9
'soul' is haunted by this account makes to the sports grounds just as they fundamentally empty out into life grass covers her shorts white faced don't know if she's ever had the leaving
time is marked in the styles of say it's autumn you running into someone wearing clothes you remember from a store outa town now its the 1780's arm a little thinner your jaw a little squarer
Tox painted over as a line on the city they pulled down themselves shaped like that in a cartoon, flat but differentiated by purpose marked you down as a businessman maybe last invented
the middle guy who did this a solecism a denial of the body someone might think you an enemy with your short hair your three fingers two legs covered in paint Elament you grass Enroll