ducornet-adams-tongue

I like to imagine that Adam’s tongue, his palate and his lips were always on fire, that the air he breathed was kindled to incandescence each time he cried out in sorrow or delight.

Thought:

“Whose ways is strange when it’s time to survive?
Pray on the plane, get off, laugh at God
Goddamn shame, but gave ’em the nod
Game is the game, still slept like a log”

billy woods | “crawlspace”

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