Cheaterling's Twittering    (   s    )

 
 
well might as well will when the sun comes
                         down
to flash-incinerate us, and all our finest thoughts
                           and
sincerely narcissistic constructs become even much less
                           than
ash.  Even the shit of the Queens and Kings won't matter
                           much
                           at all         at all    (if at all)
at all at the end of that day.
                            And
ye won'believe the diversive (petty) fun-carnival'circus
                           that
well might be forcibly set upon us by the angels.  Oh,
                           those
sprightly, go'lightly seraphim float down from candy'cotton
                           contriv'ed
clouds. All the more reason to stay the fuck home on election
                           day,
avidly soaking in the returns of the day the returning
                           to
re'educate (us) in the art and attitude of laughing tears laughing.
 
 
nmmmmmmmmmmmmnmmmmmmmmnnn
2020dkzkpoem/photo, ArtfullyDoneWilfullyTainted