Aspirin

Aspirin, and the, my God, eszopiclone. Just give it up. Astro poet. Astro farce, designating the constellations? As if you give a fuck? Come, meet me in the closet at Barrymore and Vine. Jungle busts and cheap, sweet wine. Go on, you fakery faker. Let’s both succumb, sourdough, worshipper. I’ll take a bite out of you; do you know the film? Brewster, Packard, Duesenberg, blue? Don’t you know the truth? Skinny owl-eyed dooped de doo? Let’s get it on! Let’s call the cosmos what they are: telescopic assumptions patterned medieval screeches, all the other prehistorica, familia. Ganglia. I want to fuck you, too. For KEK. BOO