Humiliatingly Close

Let’s begin by grasping your country. You need to hold danger to see danger in long-term pain reduction and suffering, becoming what smells like uncomfortable. An avenue to follow properly elects the strongest. My dream: Shit your tonsils. Who can hurt more?

I’m dropping the pain on you. The pain quotidien slams from far away. Where I can escape and thrill in the chase like Hugo's dead dog. The pain so big I have to leave to punch a hole in this idea for what controls behind it. And go far away out of pain’s way.

Since this painful garbagetruck has parked in our lozenge. There isn’t a way to speak without pain. Good fortune is unlikely with reliable weekly pickup taking pain-causing agents far away: Where they can escape with my diverse funds by grasping your country’s flaws and showing up real pain something bad, like my hands have known fear so, later.