Run with the wind
Thank you. Exemptions. Complaints. Santiago of the seas. Love is in the air. Excess must be stripped clean? Inventions trills reduced to their nill. Fecundity the great “puppeteer.”
Jane the Plain says: Overgrowth is part of natures beauty and absurdity. Grabforit rabbit — Miss Fizz is resigned to being stuck with it.
What agreement, are we in agreement? Just a blick. Who feeds. There there now.
Rich in service, not precious gift? No idea. All hi no is am full the fuck guck ruc suck — up with it. And value input from them who have for whatever time and place, indelibly graced it. OK I used a religious word. I belong to the NO religion, ask whats my religion I say multi pass. And screw around with all the gods — That said, the living is “deemed” he/she whosobe.
Whose side is this? And fizz is whose? I cannot refuse. Its brought me peace of mind. Allsorts. Char and tar and skin and fin and verbal lapland. Because life is hard and horror. And beauty and tyranny hexcettera. Clepto Clarice sees humanity as category shared across “the boards.” Clutch at rhyme, steal char, cunt seed: love encourages the quixotic.
Hatred here anymore shimmers with insurrection mainly at night, whose contempt for day caresses horror into a screaming sleep.
Sendy wendy gets invasive, luxuriant dissolute profligate. Once gets going dont want her stop. Blick confesses to hadooring the joy rides — miles to go, after the fact. Can see from here, was a run with wind, a necessary “up h evil.”
But when then got lost at edges of meaning begging for mercy? Not so much. “Charity cases” boomtown saints call em. They possess knowledge in those quadrants I flirt with. Because its there, truly.
Reluctance, so many diff sides to it. When under attack. Can make up any hexcuse for hits all acuteness. Hiknow. But also, cant underhexstimate old gods stoning me to death — for breaking tribal rules — buried in skin by the girls, bythemoms. Madness was wrenching dreadful agonized. This way that way — constant — invasive and runaway, up to the swarm porn width tea cups the wild worms, blissed out ferocious “heart” attacks.
That said, place is at peace — with bespoke furies, the raptured and captured, its strangely exorbitant dementia, spiraling. And acknowledge all excuses as mephitic zeal.
Add away! Madrid. Conspiracy of attachment — that is just what it is.
This is money to me. I love royal gifts. The royal gift thing, started before language. First love of life was to dive into the “garden” and pull its stuffings out — like making love to a plush toy and your cunt is undeniably just there, a thing demanding lunch. And still remain in that way, something of a beached white whale.
That’s all I yam, suppose in a way, beached frgn whale. Shore dates are serious grim. Hi know, thats why I dance with the wind.
But call it cutters and scag. With others who SELL bags.
Nopium hopium opium.
I had AFFAIRS with hidden trix — mourning with Dwarf not with puppet thing — puppet thing hung in noose dying swoons. And I could see the gods were doing “me”, the gods meaning voices of distrust, or stolen by its rape. Or other things vague and morbid with disgust, etc. Whose horror did not blame others for. Or its glories of doom. How could I?
Drunk with skunkworks and knowing so — by age of 2. And by 4 held it in great respect.
Where could escape from time — time was a sickness, emptiness and motion, repetition loneliness torments hunger my body composed of vast stupidity, strangled into boredom. A fixed dinner nothing vain here I hear. Hokay.
Elevation of dementia the hopium, presented with loom out on fire escape, pear forced into thresholds of seeing. None of which could speak of. Worship is troublesome. Oddly demands performance. Feels graced by blasts of infection. And so it threatens me. Worship can be dope.
When it burns into rapture. And hell of course.
As a wee pony not adherent, adsorbitant, many pennies heave on “atonce,” never put one god over another they carried thru diff surges, began to note out at reaches met over “questions of ownership.” Words did not exist. They were almost (falloir) beside the point. Couldnt talk about it anyway. Outside of “church view” nothing really allowed.
Fighter has separated out shine from warship of worship, and leashed itself to absolutes pollutes. Fees are its dramatic era. But to free from contempt — for being full of barrels going over the falls — go go to Nash Poe etc even Kirkeguaard. Help understand the beauty too that crazy as a leaf, raged inside of it. In love with me, sighing sadly.
What Italians need me? Goods you if virtue flaunt crime or. Flaunt crime as virtue. Love that.
Make pretty la lang bang hang her. Benito marcho drop.
Fiends of fortune. Penalties tipple ill y id : I am a friend. Whomsoever who are. Nothing the nothing the nothing, bulls eyes! again Bataille. Buffed beaked faulknered. I race out. Kiss yall for it. Prolific to commit NOT to leaving —
NO. Why should eye, leave because of ceremony ? No. Have to fit the whatsit into the thatsit — humpties egg just happens to come with. All was hall could was this. Due accumulation of difficulties over forces of rebellion.
Caves Immunities. Stand under sun. Mouth open. These things I steal. Its not kissing feet. Its kissing brow. The shone on is lalang for me wires tires observance and peeps who billage pillage fray.
Not sovereignty, that marm carnies out in the vernacular. The Duke. Like in Bataille. Or Shakes.
Serene margin of won and wood. Honey dues are dues. I pay for the honor. Helps me stay on track. I have it to do. Brings me back.
Style its not rigid abyss. RIGIDS. I love rigids, some gods in heaven are very rigid. And I hear their noise up in the Crib. Emma lady is huge here. Goes her own way — thing. And remains respectable! Marm gives me room to travel through and exceed the abyss without denial. Scrolls are not playing cards. Its that yall paid attention. And helped me out of a mess. I see it that way.
Rub It In
I dont move. Splendor. Some just dont. Grateful lets me play and repetoirs back calls me crazy hack. Room Vroom.
Tomb loom. Used to call it. And meant it. Would stand on street as crazy as fee fye flow and laugh in crispy. Sought it!! That was a problem. Peahaps stems from mechanic, forced to find structure in thickset. Along with Syvies bees. Bad directing, torments love her for it.
Directing phenomena torments whim, get up, I am. I think I am. I dont make a big thing of it, except here, here its heffery thing. Coocoo bayou. Stillness the sickness, stab the stabulation, phrase hunting for blickness, with others who really do think about it. IN EXCESS.
Was waiting for them there. Wait, want, drink. Or she wont show up properly. Twain tells me that I admit the dependency is a love child. And for love childs, everyone cares what they bears of it, thats all. No bigger than a lie.
An ascension. Fizz itself hack back then suddenly a sacred quest. Its blues and brothers, past midnight.
Everything is falling dead. Em strides in and disappears with it, rejects my life. Meanwhile peaches is screaming: please dont let me do it. Come save from meteors. Suicidials pie fly fi dont die why the fuck stay hopeless fuck –
Dwarf is pupput of Swift, engulfed by absurd, as gargantuan strange haunted dismay. Nothing made sense what I was do and undoing, at once, and yet demanded hi fly and fast.
Camus lent me moomoo to wear hover it.
Religion the pidgeon calls that attending to grace over the manhole. Biting writing could grace where everything else bored out of gourd as kid stuffed into a mail box. The rail of mail is old sin. Started off as Poppers ya know the Truman. Fold and lick. Writing from the start was Troublesome. I addoored with secret storms its willingness to h arrrow up.
Distance accounts, in this time right now, as everything. Duke Blessed Law. Smile on painter, poor expenses, I am not in entertainment I yam entertainment. That shit stuck. Correlation to theatre — fucking priceless. Not because I am theatre or life is theatre, but writing is theatre. Pointer protected accuracy : shipwrecked. Vertical muscles. Pity and malice always November. Yes its hexpensive. Sticky has no lukewarm debt. Ancient vegetable reasons.
Ma, I have some friendship. Sum where some who. Colorado se essences of rebellious piquillo. Love a novelty hack.
Scatter my apricots. Let hazel nut. Pour tray delicacy. Ha.
Crowd of clarity end work by poet kings is weary but devoted wing thing lets distance now be its refrain, stillwantdrinks, butits writing fervor absorbs its belonging as distance with term firm great worm and flute as in chimney for hex changing char, rich in columns.
Contrasts is an obligation.
And in Conclusion
Disturbing voice runs through still. Dark and lumpy, goyle-ish drill.
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