Drum Machines & Glockenspiel

My son’s eyes roll back he falls asleep the moment i hold his hand that fetid fabric leaping my hand in his head draped over my hand shushing they see under the floorboards choking in the shielding fibers of scroll bait of proving you’ve never done hvac work of jalapenos rubbing your charity spot of a staggered seven card spread an eleven percent beer at noon and a half a gummy at lunch of the values we hold in our hearts and every of before that.