Ears for years. I will go to my death with a kiss for it, for the feast of fishes. Marm gears heart charms. I know my courage is like the sound of armpit gooseberry. Salients consider something of a poison? half and halfs like me. For mine, this half: has to make room for: that other half. Its not a choice. Its a survival mechanism.

Tho here among vous I traffic and lorry, roses grow in a Church-in-the-Bowery, with Bees, where fiendship Blooms. No prob courage, ears their seers. Think of it differently re theirs. Its not out in oceanic drowning in the empty? But undaunted. Helps me find that thing in me, of a horded wealth.

Eyes spy fly as vehicle of carte blanche, magnifier leeway (from Sartre). Its treasure for me. CountTess chooses to stand by. Because it just happened that way because it just happened that way. Was something I could actually do. Gives thoughts to ways can flourish in the innumerable. Open ness of line for colluding with rhyme, rabbit on, and range, coughing into my make / shift coffin. Coffin is pastiche.

There is a really serious side to Pastiche I more and more ADORE. Adoration of the tenebrae (means darkness), of the magical nature of “thought” in its web of beautiful lies and urgency for truth, tis inherited from la lang bang. I use it for things that perforce transpositions of meaning in a nutshell. Where shine suddenly flames up in a swoosh and I sigh, deeply, but without torment.

Can call a Cradle, yeah Cradle of Doom. Pastiche. Happiness is seeing mention of death “vehicles” as Pastiche. Over the sacred. Much as I see detective stories as Pastiche.

ailment evil mystics last fire

Am moving on from pure poison. Amy Zyon put her foot down. Cross heart hope to die. Not going back. NOT GOING BACK TO THAT. Pure poison is lost in its own fire. Not that I am going to stop the fire. Can still get knocked over with a feather as they say. Or from sudden unexpected touch on a wound that has a lot of scab over it, and that I just jumped with numina lumina, naming sessions with cobs, you webs —

But even if lapse its not a lapse. Was just making a decision, a little backwards. That “pure” poison thing, not doing it again. Too dangerous, too fucking dangerous.

Love has no singular imputation here any more, nor attribution, definition, etc. Nor does Beauty. Beauty especially I use as “that thing,” that presses its way into me, for staying alive here. Like Sun through a Magnifier.

Dont see mystic as evil. But as evolutionary. An important part for me, early on discovery, objects of mind. There are things about mystical overtones that still shimmer as a restive breeze, perhaps arrived with reading Rimbaud and then metered out by Pessoa in his scenics. Up against Chandlers is Pessoa. Find that a musing. But action at distance stuff, have to be careful about. Mystic innuendo is palpable, shimmers too with immersion. And not without the meaningful anecodotal. Call it: Stem cells from heaven.

Seriously ham is at peace with my past now in a general way. And without turning — just accepting, thats all. Erin gro bra. Can view now as golden showers and all. And there is stuff “in” there, about “being hit,” “falling into it,” “breaking into factions,” “hell and the aching beautiful”, etc. which remain intriguing (however expensive they were), can see “thru” now as “pure” cabbage too. While letting the heart twee again, pastiche and spatiate.

Part Tea

Sweets for sweetie. Peace draws joy. Destroyed statuary — without harsh debts. Erin is an occasional. Occasional are theme driven prints. Didn’t — do any take backs. But revolutionized? Erin is fine as Larry.

Theater. everywhere leashes and traffic. Traffic… Hi knows that. Why won’t give up on respect part. This girls, sultanna. Wont. Dont turn, even Z now, not turning. Trying hacktually carefully hash out. Poetry Books are laced in poison.

Courage. Armpit. Halfer. Yeah fa la la. See is different route because I had to figure out why madness was stuck out in nashville ? Worked it out with Nash and Lowell too. God loves the cemetery. But now is truly different, a lot different. Still cautious as hell. A lot has to do with Sendy Wendy.

ailments evil, feels here more like a trusty dog in a way anymore, goes off into the endless — doesn’t let go — not master slave tho, more just backyard with the pack, over by rimbauds cottage, sees as elements of fury beauty curiosity and also compilational blood of Poe in Lub, this that then hall ways —

evil mystic sited as assassin bug carrying dead, year over year. Or Marley. I see as a grace that entered into inquiry but then madness and the fury of horror stole it, like a biblical flood.

the enemy. screams redouble shivering shimmering. the enemy is a delusion of my conscious? the sinister illuminated. la lang bang heightens as gangs of evil doers in hanger with anger, and enemy enemy repetitions. bit shocking.

Peace relieves the mess of its burdens, and especially burden of executioners.

Death music. Fatalites. This is the section. flash horizons. Mummers loot. Death arises. As la lang bang nectar of terror caress fears into beauty. Fucking flowerpot. Or cotton bag flauberts Philomena curse.

Denials, denails. Porter la portage. Swing from swing the holy circus — say do then dont. say want then won’t. its a battleground of fascination mid flame outs into fear. Somewhat due to Ripperology. Circus is about horror in some ways, girlie shows and feats of acrobats.

Murderous realms but sacred formulae. Weapons ordinance artillery.

Anguish girls thousand uncles. Yes thank you!!!! Helped pull me up from destruct-o blocks deadly with poison piñata. Moved from Mexico to Paris with humph. Free. Isle de Cite.

It is love too even tho reason able. Collect reasons for love. Take oppo tack. Opposites make opportunity. OHH. Z does that.

unsafe invasive syncope terms. but agreements never sealed, never signed. variously alluded to. friendship is dear. signs do arrive and are taken as meaningful. Rigid abyss had let to bleed out but evil markers can assert vehicles. disturbing voices have strange residual power.

Torture must be justice language? Rifles are valued. Never see things that are bloody as trash anymore. Used to see everything as trash. Poison loves trash. Shakespeares radiates with fairy business, brewers phrase and fable marks Shakespeare usages, interesting. Bloom says Shakespeare sees fairy usage as part of explanations (now derided) for love madness, and (historically my lang bang wise) find some sense in that.

Admiration isn’t wild any more, its become relatively forthright. Though poison did protect it too. Poison was big here about protecting grace structures??? And yet hates happiness phrases? No mine hated acceptance phrases. Had rejectiohary squabbles with puritanical scumquats. Now let the living lie attached in some way to sensitivity of letting la lang bang connections thread the needle, excess surpassing limits of madness, etc.

Delays also have to do with operational, its skunk works related. That and wants what one wants and thats what on wants, and continues to battle with it. Had a hard time getting a handle around the intensity of poaching for eggs (with the living not so much with the dead).

Dense but light. Sucky sorrow. Chatting to the ignorant. Ignorant of? Doesn’t say.

Desolate, all sorts, but not desolate enough to keep amused, stuck in cattle market now, rotting. Sleep sleep, perplexed. Clock is never good enough, urge for something down to earth — More powerful, of course, more powerful than subliterate corner letter from pants hungover drunk.  Lovingly writes.

Attack — is what is generally true. Not always, but generally. Mode is to attack. No returns for shipwrecks? Picked up that char and kept it. Adoration is uncertainty? Interesting. I still adore but place it outside of shine, mostly, to protect from sudden fascination with extensions that come alive there. Distance creates room to explore abstractions and methods, its effervescence got so big swallowed me. But dementia came from having bouts with multiples in flashes of disorder with nothing overhead but the naked eye. Thrilled me killed me. Focus turned hungry and wild. Had to figure a way around, and that meant for some reason going straight thru it. All dice slice and mice. Just became thrice because thats who knew about it. And the hex change of provocation is intoxicating but alas, at least it is workable.

Violence not an exercise. But is from feeling of being under attack. Impudence doesn’t imagine it as delicious, but resorted to creating beauty out of hell, in order to figure out a way to live through it. Vicissitudes create delirium. Delirium can be made useful. Rhetoric can assign breathing space to via char, and hang out with Shakespeare comparing “campaigns.”

Yes expansions arrive without constraint. But thats rhetorical too. Just fessing around here now to see what’s there. Which can see as pastiche, whereas before could not.

More TK. So many things to think about. Love cuts, what a blast.

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