attribute people pause afc. Cop. Drunk. People.

Ho well nothing is written fabulously calling me a nothignness .  It is failing.  It is beautiful.  I am beautiful part of my life is written.

I love why body guards sartre:  He was his own problem.  He denied life to God because he wanted to be loving to his  family.

I remember when I wished I was a knowledge, when I was kind of encircled within a drum called stop me before I am boring.

This god you ask for must always be loving or am I a bore?

This knows of you as my love as my thought as my goddess as foolish as nutty as thoughtful as a nerd.  Coollege works money and I am poor as a rudeness which is my life.

I cannot pretend that I write what is kind or what is thoughtful.  All there is is peace.  All there is is bruce working goldness into a foolish dumb fly.

I guide with an eye to reading bosses.  I gay gold dreamer. 

Ooh loose the rude world.  Rude world rude girl Rude people are right in their passion for wise art.

Edification wisdom family race is another family of its cold drum.  I must stop being a lot of butch.  It is my goodness I must be afriac of.  Work it, Julia.


I hereby drop race, gender and class. It is be a whore for your her reading her grief aobaut herlondon.

And a lot of work is a dreaming of muscer usderlaskfj;sjer

aOld and birding no one dies as a martyr.

The flavor of my mind is Cheese

I fail work cause I am the problem no one knows.  I am the unmentionable aggressor in two modes.  I can ask myself what to say and the answer is poem:

A fucking bigot narcs herself testing her trees with trees
Tri way over the troubles.

I gassed with nothing to say.

Wookie.





Ofucking nerd draws herself sick rude baby woman life band

I word.

A Book Called I Hate Cheese

Feeble Famblies coll me rude.  I wonder whether I am really free because I do not like families.  I wish I had a family.  They read passion.  I was wondering whether they are good.  I think famblies give you much to go for as long as god makes them peaceful.

I have written what is family.  I have begun to say for them what I know about them.  Word.

They are word.  I am peace.  They are love.  I am trees.

Okay?

Death works as a moose in a large money hungry crooked drug addicted flower.  This flower makes itself dreamy.  It is rude and loving.  I say because I am not family that I am a sexy moose.

Word is that God sought this family for its nothingness.  It sought him because he is sharking itself to the loud reason of being alone.  I hate that.  This is my friend.  He knows what is thoughtful.  He is also a good person.  I know to you there is very much cruelty in your friendship.  However I also believe that I am friendly to those woman who are friendly.

I  in other words have found a drunk.


Golden poppies waving in the wind.  Circle their flowering stars with a cross of fame.

I cannot write hard ons.  I cannot write theories.  I cannot write th'arty (authority)  It is my knowledge of art that gives me patience:  Tis will turn out my way because I am the artist of my own peace.

Oh.  Maybe I am working to be crooked at my thoughts.  They tell me that I am loving because I am peaceful.  Maybe I am drinking this way for the right to be good for whores.

Sickness is in my hopes.  I wish God had been here when I wrote this life.

Dastardly Dean writes of me:  Arpoem people people people.  I think her (Julia, my sister) as a racisst hater.  Cold in heer friends and beautiful in her strings.  She sought her life with a drunk and found sex was nothing when you have changes that make you poetic to be alive.

Oh.  Dean.  He is my brother.  I am his sister.  Give me somebody to be hopeful and worry for?

Guilt brings nothing but pain.

Dark violet worlds circle the loud parts which I draw here.

Elevation.  Parts.  Man.



I gave myself a reason for this patience, called what is a narc?

The modern mope

The modern mope is a Stanford educated post-op transsexual.
She likes making love to a people that has rights.

No one understands this because I am not white killing pain, I am capitalist easing shit.

This is the negativity I am without my friends.

Oh, maybe if I had something besides holes I would be crooked.  No.  I am alive for my life which is thoughtful if soppy.

No one knows what my life is going to be since I cannot be happy with rites of my kind I must be free.

I love you.  Be kind to softness.

Mad Skills

I

Call myself a loser.

I retrieve works from race.

It is a foul and cruel work to be soap.

Narrow is the night.

Okay, work calls me rude.

I have baked and boiled tallow of human mistreatment;
I have lost race in the calling of home.








I have Caught a Stone

The whorl of it guides me to a center
Where I see, belonging to a shark, a

Stone which coldly is working my thoughtless
Mentoring of her tree.

Grow in the light; grow in the dark.
I say, peace in the earth; peace in the sky.

Water drips on the clouds orchards straw.

I catch the moment with war.

Zero crazy is waste of voices.







Slavery makes anger

I read a failing roof
Where virtue collapses

In pain.

I ride a woman's laughter
To my need passing charge
To compassion.

No law opens my people
To rafters whose knots

Cancel trouble with a jump.







Incompetent Poetry

A depiction of life without parts;
A goddess lowering me to the Earth;

A Sexy woman tying her hair with a
Cold thought between her changes
And her fame;

A loss to sleek people needing mothers.

I woke the voyeur's density;
I feel like a poem bride cold and lurid.






Touch Your Toes

I scare you because I hate touching your life
And becoming a target for rational soap.

Lesson reading works by Ike and paper:
I shat on this knowledge in order to guide life
To my cry.

I know for this passion that I am sArtre's rook.

Nefertiti, Nestor, Nausicaa, Nina




Rejecting the Standard

To engulf oneself in the paper with
The Goddess' simple thought
-- ask your marsha's thought (Dean being arch) --

I see trees gassing God and making think into rain.

No one can believe only taste.







An Outline of the Task of the Second

Go
Randy

Leave
Thought

Give
Money

Argument
Charge

Rain
Tease

And cross passion your face

Nothing is nothing.

Change works itself wandering in my flake.







Another Round of Work

I can teach what is trouble and
Need thinking for its moment.

Dash and Dodge :  you are post-op.




School is people

I fly where nerds justify pinking
Reason is life to God as peace champion of roundness cold as rover.

Okay, I think of your family as loving and troubled.
I think of your father as a troubled star.

Gather love and save passion -- this is me   that is work.




Confusion

Laugh at your friends
Give your paper dreams

Teach your life answers

Effort kills maybes.

I was rooted in narcotic appearances:
Castle is masquerade of people.

I dream when I am thriving.
I work when I am cold.

You are the thought of art.

Total Freedom

I say thar is part of ta cunt working money as a noak reading wonder with its dream kissing itself many of its grievew laughter is love as a parat of my life I sexually are bargaining with my past.

No one destines life to be money.  I sesually dream of parts of your life which give me hope.  It is my love for yes that is dreaming hope is my cunt.

Sexually active bart was nothing does it good to be love cold are my works.

No one is happy when I am baloney.  I am part of your life.  You are my hope.  As I am your strumpet.  I give you parts of love that sartre tried to be friendly and I was his pork.

Nothing is alive for bra bard life was cold (Breezy knew why I broke myself dreaming of drunken targets with no love for soap).]]



Cast iron drinks are worth it to it money is death to castw dean is my passion but I am nothing for haskell.  Give me a road and I will deal with a poem.  And it is mostly okay.  Cake work is nothing to bar cake is lesten a bomb. Drunk is drunk.  I hte pain.  Nothing is life to money.

Sasha the worker causes my hopes to be life and I am nothing if I am rude.

As I give you death is not part of work.  No one is beauty if there is portly crooks.  It is my understanidng of my parts that Justice gives itself part of my flowers.

No one is good to me and I am loose.l

You who have begun to say costs are flowers must also believe that nothing can deal with rights but a nothing as cold and dreaming. 

I say this is anger.

Go to your flames with peace.

I gave myself birds.

Catharsis

Nothing particularly

See part of my soft work
Which, deep within me,
Terribly
Reads Home rising to peace.

No one need know
I love soft strength.

No one need believe
Thought is family.

I stress and stretch:
The sharks law
O right, law man
Is pope race laughter.

End of Dream.




Jail land man peace

Edification paused work
I gave myself pain
As rights are my family.

No one belongs to my
Ashen argument.

Edification paid me
Tests rights pain clout.

No one belongs to my
Rest laughter love work

I delved where no one
Made thought flower.

I deal rights to those who are
Arcane and aflame.

No one who reads
Work is also passionate.

I worked my life poetically
As a pandering acher (flowing crown):
Nothing draws contempt
As much as patience (or sausage).


Go to thy happy sappy road.

I belong where my life is
Open for birds to
Raven.

Go part mass drum peace.


Owl reads fast and draws
Good.

Aching for Need.

I am a cunt.

I am loving.

Acting like I am foolish I love life.  Edification works itself there.

No one can do this without knowing that I am treating myself like I am (I am, it goes without saying ? Oh, thankful) artistic.

No one who knows me can say I am very peaceful.

I wish I had the same peace of being thoughtful as I want.  I know that you who are free will begin to feel happier.

I am glad.

As you may well wonder, why would anyone think that someone would be thoughtful about art?

I think that art gives much strength as well as love to all.

There is something hopeful in my life.  It is good to let it be possible for my friends to be family to me.  I am selfish that way.  I have no idea whether or not you who read this are named Rusty or Randy or Chelsea or even Marilyn but I have thought for a long time that I have been rude where I was messy.  I am messy in that I have body.  It is just another way of being an egotist, apparently, to think about it and to express that fact in that way.  No one need be kind to me without also messing me.  There is no good in being angry.

I love you.  There is good in that.  Maybe you who need me to be thoughtful will remember that there is freedom in good because all are able to listen, all are able to free themselves from  pain. 

I am sad about Philip Seymour Hoffmann.  I was not very familiar with him but it is obvious he was a person of great humanity and his loss is a sad one.

Nokay.

As you who wish to believe I am hopeful amy realize, there is good in hope.  I have tried to be strong.  I have tried to be free.  I must be hopeful.  I belong free.

You need me to be hopeful because I am a thought of my troubles.  That is not a good conclusion to this.

My life needs something other than anger.  I have no good in this fear of being part of money.

No one who knows me can say that I have been closed to parts of love.

I will be here today.  I allow myself to be strong.  Hopefully your strength will also allow you to free anger from my ranting.

RAnting, meshing, kindness and love all are life.

Actress of Pride

Imbolc

I found positive life where
Thought belongs to laughter.

It is nice and good to read
A flower's passion for being.

As a life of my own anger
Was crying niceness and love

And I ceased to work peace
Coldly, I wonder whether

A poem that states itself as a
People's moment is possible.

Effacement of reading only brings
Here a thoughtless trouble.

And now I have written thought
As the people's moment.

Noises' action works itself
Westernly listening dreaming.









WHEN WILL I MOURN?

Shame is on the love which was
Family.  I go to ride that part of

Life's being with a flaming star.

Level of my own father; level of
Her being was to give trouble

And love without family.

I sought this confused dream.

It is your peace that is beauty.

I give you parts which do create
Roses match.  I delight in

Work for People with my
Right to love her softness.

As you glow with passionate
Happiness, I make you straw.

Her marvelous will is life's
Somber nature.




I seek you

Golden rights with no one to
Part slaying golden parts.

I deal nothing for a road
Which kills staff.  I have

Listened to the life you
Coldly delineated as a

Mostly racist piss of a no one,
A temporary worker.

I am nothing without family;
I am poor because I hate chastity.

I am patient because nothing
Dissolves stubborn changes

Without my poop.

Edit for parts of life.







I love my stuff.  It is my life
I have to work with.

Edit for martyrdom.