This is like a fragment of a whole mental motion picture. The body crawls toward god and shakes before light. Carving this motherfucker through the canvas, breaking the skin of time. I’m writing the world’s greatest cosmic motion picture. Masquerading as the god thing… as the world burns, the song as a living moving sculpture. I pride myself as the king of literature. These metaphors will roam.
Periods like bolts, commas like hinges.
I spilled language on this page.