angels swing their feet off my collar bone

i have something to say which is i’ve nothing to say

for some reason i feel the urge to state that i don’t wanna state anything

ah i got it

everything stops when i get to writing

angels swing their feet off my collar bone

observing and analyzing

asking how

how when there is literally nothing he wants to say

he says

and the shit he says

how the fuck aren’t they shit

but like

they’re the shit

this task i was tasked with

this is not a task when i get to sit on his collar bone and watch

i guess i

i feel

and i gain consciousness

find out who what is and what god is not

i find out stupidity makes the task a task

everything always moves

that’s how he gets to say when there is nothing he wants to say

who the fuck is he

always vibrating

his core always pushing and pulling

taking and giving

always vibrating

always fucking vibrating