Born With A Stitched Tongue
Vignette #4
Getting caught up in sense makes you lose it and I got tittly to tittly to in buckets of no sir never sir. You should signal the siren to dump the secretions to a proper burial. A landfill of unfinished stories made up of dismembered limps. See, when we are banned from cannon all stories are true and false. And people have to dedicate their lives to adding sides to a die until it’s a sphere. Dears die for their love of words and they disappear with their peace. It’s unsightly, unbecoming, being lost to a tongue hitched to totality. Am I too violent to live? Even when I crunch up senselessly to make sense. Like a rolling caterpillar squished before it was a cocoon.
Iconic vocaloid song :)