Pressure

There was a family.  I altered the family.  There was possibility for the one who was right to think about possibility (the anger darted itself to a world of possibility, thinking as love believes in apples -- art as possibility, dreams as open to thought of money and God death and stink.)


I sought nothing from itself.  I sought power from a way to anger others for being a woman.  I asked to be thoughtful.  I asked to be good.  No one who says they are thoughtful and good is strong or free.  Strength and freedom believe in openness to God, the nut job of my thoughts.

Castles -- the kind in chess -- always make you thoughtless:  they anger you with nothing but thought of money and thought of family.

I told you I found my friends and I found my Goddess in the dream of my own softness, in the hope of being the Goddess for my mother.

I seek to give her softness.  I seek to be thoughtful and alive.  I ask to be thoughtful and good.

Edification of body is a failure.  I only wished for myself to be mothered -- a way to ask for myself to give happiness as a thought of beauty.

I sought money for my love.

Ashes and love bring dreams of stink and pasts of anger toward this failure to be peaceful. 

I am worried about nothing because of the nature of failure:  anger toward love is about worry and thoughtless anger -- the knowledge of pain derives from a  love of my cruelty.   I did not say I wanted God to be thoughtful to me.  I was another crooked possibility of freedom.

Golden love:  the answer to peace is safety and pain.  Pain is money and safety is art.  I wish to feel the need of myself to give peace.  I know I am part of the anger.  I know there was softness; I was thoughtful; I was a part of rights (the need for rights is also a family of love).

Elevation of pain is the kind that you wished for in my friendship.  I was this painful because I was poor and there was anger and fear and anger and thoughtlessness about the need to give thought to my hopes.

I am another thoughtful person with needs.  I am trying to give my hopes a way to feel materialistic so they will not die with the need to give peace.  Perhaps I have thought about love and found myself possible because I am peaceful and troubled with the artistry of fame.  I am really cold because nothing is happening for my family, whether in the treatment of love (to listen, to feel, to act with focused and kind thoughts of others need for happiness) or in the thinking of life -- giving people change because life is young and peaceful.  I am no longer young; I am rarely peaceful.

Edification of pain is another fear of pain.  Pain and pain.  Omigod I'm an entrance in my feelings (peace was its own art) which needs love and peace, cruelty of nothingness which derives from rape is no one's trade.  

I am worried about my life being poor.  No one to ask why I am boned with another's crime.  I ask only to love peace for its creative thought of hope. 

At home, I am,

Entr'acte:

Aching beauty, thinking of my own dream to be thoughtful and loving, I give you feces of faking a moment.  I in this moment give you a woman's answer to people being home and my being trouble:  I am good because I am happy.             

No one thought of me as a woman except my sisters, mothers and friends. 

I am here to give myself an answer to pain.

Pain

I did not listen for my own part in god, the one with the answer.  She who believes in moments of change must also ask for rest, love, rights and a moment to be laughed at for her visions.

My vision:

Energy derives from loss of people's class.

Nowhere to be myself is not feasible. 

I feel manly because I am a nothing to my life.  I asked to be good.  I asked to be alive.  I asked to give myself thoughts which I would be troubled with.  No more cruelty.

Anger and foolish hopes of my own golden green dreams are from this panicked woman.

This is no one's pain but my wonder at ashes.

Ashes begin.

She was changed.  She was glowing.  She was alive and now she is parted.

I am part of her family.

I hope you will believe she did what she could to be free of the need for pain.

Yours,

A loon (with a beautiful voice).