the two everythings

there is something in type, which i can't describe. it's so lofty and floating heavy high, it's breath from a bag that satisfies all hunger. it's sencha máte oatstraw horsetail mint alfalfa passionflower lemon balm sugar & longing. there's existence brought to tongue tip, burnt cells from hot soup immediacy, but with the ecstasy of said drug without the after-dinner invisible sandwich. it's the passion of sex hunger but without indoors to traipse over your inner fuck-ups. it's a constant paper cut that extends for the universe of every collective skin, but instead of bad it's complete and complete and also complete happiness. the atom-split of thought gets multiplied from single dopamine drop to infinite probability, the million-sided-die of the earth, and all of our plants and planets, that we own with god's sure-footed mind and hearth. it's the way you feel after waking death. it's free shit, it's everywhere. and it's one word answer, it's final say and syllable, it's beauty and it's simplicity, is in this one pin prick, this easy, motherly eye-closing...

but open up? we got 13 bagels, fresh-frozen, 2 everythings for the morning. and as addendum: drink townshend's tea company "brew dr" kombucha.