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w h i t e k n u c k l e
-God's Money Mix
From this far away, even the worst festival band can sound high enough on droneverb to maybe be orbiting Spacemen 3 or Cosmonauts. Give your ears the Methodrone they deserve. Walk just far enough that hackneyed lyrics vape to warm sibilance and bland melodies blur with the best on your brainshelf. Maintain correct perimeter from source while brainchanting mantras: “Yeah feel so good” or “When am I coming down”? Before setting controls for the heart of the sun, maybe drink some water and double tie your sneaks. Or kick them off. Let hazed sound waves be your soles, brainsheath, breath.
new traffic pattern
Daniel Hales
blind drive
prose poetry for the people
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