Be my punctuation. Allow me the right to exist with minimalistic fist fronts. List love as an outlier amongst emotions. I am the ocean center with not so much as a subtle underwater current. I’m going to stepping-stone my way across.
Be my punctuation. Allow me the right to exist with minimalistic fist fronts. I’m the ocean center, I embody the inner core to the exosphere on to every star, planet, intergalactic piece of flotsam that appears. Eyes are the vessel to heart, mind, nervous, skeletal, and beyond to outer matter, binary imperceptible.
In this universe, now I’ve come to terms with the boundaries. Mitosis of the cells occurs quintessentially as duality between the foundries, and the fountain, bridge the gap, all being accounted. Need ties in with a seed to be germinated by the inbetween, that’s “we.” Look up, you’ll see, the ambience in which you breathe, decreed. We are the seed in hand with amoeba, intrinsically, in sync with being.
Plastic never made perfect, but the practice in having was worth it. Perfection was never intention of this, and the lack of is rather rewarding.
We are past the globe in indigo, with lack of scale, numerical code. Pure all and no. Look down, tell of what you see, not left behind but put to the beat of different line. It’s all string, but you’ve got a plastic cup and so does everything. Expand the gap for clarity then breathe, speak and see. Osmosis of you and me, amoeba, andromeda, wind and sea. Let it pool, this is true recollection, be free.
From Johannesburg, South Africa, terrence? delivers an EP of gorgeous soul and moody hip-hop surrounded atmospheric production. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 13, 2022
