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glitched out wannabe, maybe you'd come home with me?
there's lots of glitter in the pocket of my plaid flannel sparkling.
giant chunks crunchin e pills in ecstasy,
though for a minute we looked past our biology
and talked aloud bout living free;
love not centered on the goals of procreation
but instead focused on channeling this vibration.
it could be real, fake, illusion bleeds into the known,
this dichotomy of plugging in when we're all born alone.
i trust in fate but believe nothing of it,
all i see in my eyes is a path that i covet.