Sunday, September 18, 2011

On the way from Hope

I dread living as part of one hopeful strange poem.

It's not good (preferable/livable) to make one strong way to have life.

It's better as one person to remember that one can (must) read as a flawed person.

I know that I despise my place in life insofar as I have no freedom to live with people who want me to like them.

This is the consequence, in the rear view mirror, of refusing to like people when they wanted me to.

aww.

A way to get chests (busts) with womanly freedom is to godlessly play love as possible. This means that I was a boss because I loved me.

Poetry

Deal yourself one place: home.

Live for hope.

I am playing one truth -- poem.

Poetry

the only sucker who gives life is changing.



I would like to write again about my frequent references to death, killing, murder, violence and human sacrifice.

I started doing drugs when I wanted my life to be loving.

I wanted to be strong.

now I am full of failure.

You must let my womanly drugging foolish poetic stupidity be hateful because I hate a nerd loving bisexual hopes.

Ahh, I see.

I am the nerd. You are happy. I am soft.

I feel that I stopped what i was for (being home) in order to have hopes.

Now i have to love her (my mother qua the Goddess) because i am home.

She and I were this way when i was foolish (cold and soft).

i believe that there's this: it's payment for me to like crack by not having softness. I must stop being hoe/home.

This hope for money is hateful.

i need to have drugs. They make you money,

I need to stop being foolish (stupid/and poetic)

These feelings are fearful but not fast.

Famous Flames Fail Flambe

At Cottess (a consonantal hardening)

This putrid no one controls sartre. No one deserves to make him him.

This now is a part of a place.

I am so untalkative.

I will hug you .

There's no God of seasons.

Now: The holly king and the oak king -- who are they?

Derive this from happiness.

I believe good makes love beautyful.

Bad makes it a way to dream.

Good and bad: practical poesy.

I give you a rogue.

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