White cotton panties he expounded those three little words to
bring his buddy back to reality and off the rant possessing him tha later tha
night hed research and email him how his “understanding” was incorrect he bites his tongue not
to say wrong
he asks his iPhone it nanosecondly informs him It says . .
. . It
Whos it
They . .
. . They
Who is they
You understand whas happening to you you who says I don want to work tha hard Youre throwing off your responsibility for learning if you do not knowif you may not be recollecting accurately
Your phone its AI its algorithms has become
your Gospel
I woud guess youre pleased by most of
their answersnot
a persons mind you theirs
Machines are programmed to flatter you
No.
Mindfucked my friend
white cotton panties were like ammonia salt
crystal capsules spirit of hartshorn
broken under his noseinhaled huffed
Return
to Sender
There you are
Back
What did you say?
You know wha I said
Back
Yeah.
Ill email you tonight the evidence to
support my argument rather than takin me at my word I woudnt take you at yours
Yeah.
visiting one of the few memories of his life that he
remembers
Do you remember her name?
I do
But I prefer white cotton
panties
You respond quicker than if I
were to say her name
If you do then . .
. . Susie
With an S not a Z Wilkerson
1931, Sunday,
4 1. 26
1339, reggaefriday,
9 1. 26
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