I do not know why people do what they do.

I used to think I did.

As a child makes people remember peace,
I cannot live without my own will.

Many pagans are good.  I love them.

Today I give my own life to a monster of beauty:  life.





Go where you need to go.
Be who you need to be.

I thought I was reasonable about the creative mind.

I am thoughtless as a handshake.


Maybe you will enjoy the being of algorithms.



I have adjusted my reasonability to the rats, the mice, the cats, the (dice),
the women, the crazy, the organs, the loss.




An algorithmic writing


Bob made his green ham the love of my babies.
He snatched my right hand and made me cruel.

Lesbian and whole, rest is good.




A poem for my maker.

Thy reason is where thy life belongs.
Thy writings are where thy mind saves maps.

I draw upon your guests; I deal with my answer.
She knows her robe is of jargon.

I save you and give you paper.
Actress was a crock of projects.

Loudly I read and there is a people:
Daily I crave my own chastity.

Illness is the only reasonable way to write a sink.
Moment of reeking:

Elementary mantel with anxious makers.