sewn across the board

18 Dec

Here are the midnight scribbles I’d promised:

The ceiling hems us in like a technicolour dreamcoat-fence, wild fiddles paying chimpanzee routes off to Mipposham that is not how it is pronounced, I know I know. Boredom villages of the motorcloud spear, remote a darker age an unenlightened society? Imagine yourself, Bortglomt, be my pheasant
But eventually your birds will fly, your sun will whine and die the world is only mortal, you know
That which is immortal may never be real. Never be real + be a woman. I spent all night
We will win Elf Power lovers phallus attacks, thousands of the carrot mgeris a
Tererors attack of the sunlandic kissers into my arms; things can merely get better, I must relax until our bombs are eaten by a soviet general first can use the revolutions into the dias of our life nosed santa
I am an unknown marketabilitycherub, rushing things
The wings the terror of the)
Dreaming are not realistic opinons of love but our
Different styles, marriage just shackles and a soul


Probably one of my favourites thus far, luckily I didn’t write over myself too often with this one.

Kid A sketches comin’ soon.


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