From 08fd8e95dccb91d0495a50d1009f85cb80cfad65 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Tue, 14 Apr 2015 18:09:55 -0700 Subject: First compile in v1.0.0 --- spittle.html | 62 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 62 insertions(+) create mode 100644 spittle.html (limited to 'spittle.html') diff --git a/spittle.html b/spittle.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3161691 --- /dev/null +++ b/spittle.html @@ -0,0 +1,62 @@ + + + + + + + + + + +Spittle | Autocento of the breakfast table + + + + + + + + + + +
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Spittle

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My body is attached to your body by a thin spittle of thought.When you turn away from me, my thought is brokenand forms anew with something else. Ideas are drool.Beauty has been slobbered over far too long. Godis a tidal wave of bodily fluid. Even the flea has somevestigial wetness. We live in a world fleshy and dark,and moist as a nostril. Is conciousness only a watery-eyedromantic, crying softly into his shirt-sleeve? Is not reasona square-jawed businessman with a briefcase full of memory?I want to kiss the world to make it mine. I want to becomea Judas to reality, betray it with the wetness of emotion.

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