These are the insides, this is the pit of the stomach. Where the food gets broken down. The good stuff, absorbed. The elements of life, squeezed tight. Light the brain.
Motivation comes first, the reason is next. We are the independent angels, here to help, here to encourage your courage. This monster is made of paper and masking tape. Rip it up. Wad it.
Your bill is flat, thudded on the table, a weightless blob of nonsense. An oily mess. Dripping on the floor. The buzzards wait their turn, they like that tire taste, they'll eat it off the dirty street. No hassles, there's always plenty of scraps.
