Sticky

Setting aside limits, boundaries and imperatives

A troubled thought seems to feel rude.

Something in me wants to make things cost.
I think this is the expression of a will to dominate.
According to de Beauvoir, such a will must be dishonest:
In denying others freedom, I am denying myself freedom.

Orkay.

As a woman I know that belonging to parts of my hopes for
homely bliss is nothing to part of life.

I write this in part because I am not that famous.

I do not know what to say about people who are
cold.  This is my life.  I am not that bad.

Part of this seems to me work.

Therefore I give you a pope of acting.

Do not act?

Okay.  Safire knew that necessary cracks in
Work divide kindness and leeches.

I have found that nothing is better than
Young people reading art as part of hope.

Costs do not care about racism
Because nothing is dreaming about acts.

I understand:  Bosses belong where
Atrocities work messes.

An atrocity:  parts of love as new to stink.
Messes:  woman.

No one is here to work as a loss.

Coldness belongs to needs for feces.

Why do i always go back to shit:  because
that is where my artistry called itself a drug.

Nothing is right to belong -- okay costs are another
Answer to change.

Change is a poem.