i'm just so intrigued by how we favour one side of mouth in which to masticate. perhaps it is the side corresponding to our preferred hand. alternatively it's the side without an ache, a cavity, a filling zinging on tin foil. either way it's a set of pegs breaking down something - hopefully nutritious - before it waterslides down, landing in acid, like some toxic water park ride.
there's this ringing, this beep, electronic cheep. it goes fast. faster than my heart. faster than my running heart. individual snips of sound higher than stoned, so close together - a stream of potency.
stop.
stop.
you're stabbing into my fleeting thoughts.
stop.
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