Ass to ass, mouth to salad dressing covered plate. I watched

>>9657824
>I thought back to the memories of playing tag with my mother in the cool grass, I was not wearing shoes, friends.

Thats Proustian af.
I wish I had a real mother.

What you drinking beer like that for, you want a paunch that badly? Drinking vodka or whiskey or w.e like a man with a plan. That plan being getting drunk.

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Again the latch clacks upon the rod that holds the latch of the gate that separates the garden from the patch of great worry inside me, I watch the path get soaked with the falling rain as my eyes well with tears that I know of the origin not. Untied shoes step one before each other my mind is a staring sentry absent of cause. Nowadays awake from a blank sleep with dread in my heart not thinking of anything other than my own worry and with no plan to change anything except the way I lean in my filthy sheets before I awake again pissing out the nights mistake and gulping warm water through my studio apartment spigot.

>>9657901
>the way I lean in my filthy sheets

Consider new ways to lean (direct your attention) in your filthy sheets (muddled mind)

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Oh, the origin of worry, while the years roll along. Along the wall to the right the light from the sun is square and long while the night birds are recused with the buss transport and degenerates scrapping the gravel below me as I cough and breath in the wet surroundings of morning. Dampness springs into the head of unconscious placement, neglect stretches the heads strings under the filtered light of mistake.

>>9657974
I like the cut of your jib
I would accuse you of merely rolling allong alliterative connections but the words work as a whole.