Vultural Capital
The romance of thievery is only when disclosed with immunity to others. Tiny braggard swaggard bloom
The art of theft is not being caught and not letting on because it's work. The act of theft is an alround laceration. The reflection here is catching myself recursively intoxicated. "Maybe I should die" emerged unintentionally in my closed mouth hum. Thought and writing and voice platforms are endless flowers and scrolls here. The timelapse between our interior and its externalising. I am impatient about that. Lapse is loss. Loss lost its excited delirium. Lose your shirt. Build capsized pyramids
A cherishising of mortal danger. Bring candled cake on any demise. No more light.
The art of theft is not being caught and not letting on because it's work. The act of theft is an alround laceration. The reflection here is catching myself recursively intoxicated. "Maybe I should die" emerged unintentionally in my closed mouth hum. Thought and writing and voice platforms are endless flowers and scrolls here. The timelapse between our interior and its externalising. I am impatient about that. Lapse is loss. Loss lost its excited delirium. Lose your shirt. Build capsized pyramids
A cherishising of mortal danger. Bring candled cake on any demise. No more light.
