i can't stop talking about the way that you're thinking.

the way that you form the thoughts in her mouth is quantitatively equal to the number of parsecs in between a land mass of dinosaurial object permanence. i once watched a video about the day that she died in a similar way to frankenweenie, except there was no cutsey ressurection story. the way that i'm thinking about how every single thing reflected in this window could be an impossible face looking at me, i don't want to think about it. i don't want to fucking know how many of the things i'm typing could also be state abbreviations. it's useless fucking information coming from a processing device which is pretty much the same as a splatter ball hairy in the winter with a scary face.

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