in the eye may or may not have anything to do with god. imagine desire. imagine the sloppy wet kiss that says hi i'm a simcity llama. it's terrible how you can preserve memories like bad apples. the syrup turns your tongue into a wearable fur coat. what did you covet before you saw those dirty pictures down by the lake? you've been looking at wristwatches ever since. with a lot of pain. you'll never know what time it is now. it could be because you're crying suddenly over six pennies. love is a stun gun. and before you know it you're scratching out your lashes with the acrylic nails you found on your mother's dressing table. you still tell everyone she was french. what have you got in there now? voices? tell me again what color they are before i blow them out, like birthday candles.