flavored development

Eating giants on cornflakes while the sugar dives for oysters who hid the last radio show under their tongues tasting the saccharine and spearmint. I search for gelatin air waves, but I think I am landlocked. And drowning. Like a salt coated slug. Pink germaniums. why do I only write when my cardboard surroundings crumple to the wind’s hand? the internet reads sentiments like praying mentis eating at innards. I quickly try to close my abdomen but the bike ride is too long and I drag behind. where were you with my lunch bag, when I was choosing to scalp baby birds and writing addendums to endings that were never mine. I am thinking about a drug habit. But my veins leak rhino beetles and mothers cry on hill sides. Where every side if green. But the void is what. Until I stop having trouble growing antlers, but 13 years of puberty eats inside out and fawns have moved on. You are grammatically seizing and the foam blinds my hands so we sit spit conjunctions and sentence diagrams like back inked tattoos.