Big Time Adult
I believe in my blood pressure. It’s a bump on the front of my leg. It has a life of its own because it has an eye. Its life I don’t believe has me in mind. I believe reading has ruined my seeing and I believe in reading the safety of the road through warm eye contact. I think I’m seeing a believable heat. The corner awning is classic shitty green. I’m so at home. I remove a cured meat of its casing. It’s so pathetic on its own but here it is. I add water to a pan hoping it’ll go away. I go to town on what I’ve planned. There’s a flimsy sign to be put out.
There’s grayish water in the sink I should empty. I’m ready in cases of pleasure.