the universities are snorting up koch; behind their veils and their covers and their cloaks. i know my brothers don’t wear clothes, they’re fucking naked. adjuncts leaving for a party on the coast with an open bar and lots of blow. there’s a price to pay for your little soiree in the hills.

the abstract is not abstract, i’m amazed by the cynical tact of the form. the abstract is not abstract, i’m amazed by the cynical facts that were forged.

i met darth vader in a ramshackle hotel to write a report and to cast a spell. motherfucker’s got wind in his sails he’s fucking naked. i pray for intervention by banana peel, boots, flats, sneakers, or high heels. can you face the gail with your skin so pale?