fig.094) This Alley's Pee Mirror Schemes, this bad weather and it's crane built beacon, red above the twisting mess of paper and gas, giving everyone something for sad, something matter matters most of all. Fruit in the streets, rolling in the high yellow light. Red bricks and dented cars adjacent, Shops of Dawn in their bright capes of soonest-more. Smoke in the streets, low on the blank horizon where no one can see. I should be nervous, speaking to this. Just another damp friendly friend, who in a few more days of 53 has seen more of my ugly butterflies winning at every bad haircut and all other curatives than they should have, wet friend. Every morning, with doors wide open and a cheap ass wiggle Greeter Trash, working through paper cups of coffee rush. Bang Bang, leaving it there, there's going to be some fruit and bread and bad disease at all of these, you'll soon see... An eye with one eye out, or two more for the toads Lemonade unfolds intricately below the loc