Berlin imaginat polaroid

this conversation is overheard, whispering’you are under pillows, you can’t hear

they are explaining to you, how horrible life is

but you, this soul made out of nothing’energy, extra-dimensional thiccum

fuckforces into this place here and devoid it actually hurts

it’s a very distasteful edge hard to describe, like bad plastic glue you

dancing hard against the flow the night the energy’drop

there’s no magic, who do you know here you’re not one