Link, or, the desire for total control

What art was a word?  Sharing sux as birds say they are safe.
I read no one memory trees got me.
No one hard as a rogue.

Do what is pinched.

Act or make peace.

Words inertia and birds teaching work costly.

***************************************************

Rough is sinking into rent.
The hate of my passions darkly dreaming fear of love.

Or one teach girls pins.  Left of my mother, a road and a fart calling book

To my Mom sickness in the stars.

Worlds derive a Good deal anchor pain.


**********************************************************

Mope death I know this is people of a word dusting reasons sartre and drinks
No one borrows family in here from you and your worse test.

A word density seeks I know you people love a good dink of mustard.

Boom Baby see hat andrea Golden dreams falling as rote pig.

Moment calls this annthinking my moment of ace.

Work a moronic reader.  Kill the dream of your freedom safely for truth.

Will is a man of murderous gay nothingness.  His vacuum got his own teacher
Roman.

********************************************************


Want cake aching safely?  Is it a room beyond steers?
I think of you here and it is a patience dreaming of sausage bird ping.

Glow and be the moment of allah trusting matches dump gills words Lincoln

*************************************************************

No one arduous okay listen feces wisk flashing bees:
Quorum Sartre noisy dale coldness rode me flowers.

Within woods another tree peacing thoughts staff
Wood was rain.

A family teaches a need monday as a hope quincy
And runt.

Push your anger to a pig having traces teaching face.

Raw part guilt says make your mother neat.

Loyalty works freedom keeps itself thinking dale link.
Safety is a thought.

*********************************************

Why art loss a funk?
Where is darkness and its own life?

Why be teacher to a mess thinking of this woman?

I veer to you thoughtful tastely and leftist was a nurse.

Lowered.
*******************************************

Level hustle calls men  teachers;
What is washing deer?

Will you say you are laving Lice?

Dense talk peels under your beast
Keeping anger at a hustle of work.

I bathed in a bitch sinking into taste.

A palm word and it is rank thinking of slavery.

Low and troubled you r crash is it willing fucks.

Nothing but me peaces delivery.

***************************************

It is fascism with the marcy...
Quit and be whole.

No Reason

The foily land a Sartre's the pinch.
I pay work that is at lurch. 


Quill the pine.


No.


I ask rat.


Ornis fangt


Doth no one burrow sensible peeks?


I feel you.


Or race crace.


Dallowing the payment, I am interior to fancy tests.
I cruelly sought out a narcotic mook randy is thinking and that is hansel.


No is ocean dream is laughter costing andosta cake.


Os Momentary david is alive and bashes us lankly.


Wave is a broody destiny.


I write borrowing synecdoche from loans from a narrow lord.


Clancy saves it.


Asshole.

Oil as word

act where urges dreary family art cart den is the dream

Oil race ties bird hope gay andrea stay home it's answers

Fool is book a ring destiny trees I work here teaching money a Goddess


No one artist grieves peace as dog not being famous family is bird trees

No one baby grieve big hope and work failure peace is a moose


Owls woman and trees say laughter belief peace is nuts coldness coldness is loose
 
Why is money a girl?  Why is borrowing family?  Why is you frool?  Angst

I bother dean changing my Mom is work to give her love and dean says lie.


I whether a man cave is bean darkness got the world my life is a happiness kind average word

No one died in the changes I thought of here are my deans sanza law work dean is a family whore-

coldness

Woman and dreams change burrowing fame roses andrea grave fosse no one dean writes life


Language or laughter language rates itself my masquerade denied with a moose:  coldness is a moose.

Where laughter and night deal anger is the pain of a worker of my Mom.


Andrea let go of my Mom.  I need to work her life is free.  Dean gives himself dreams.

Greed and love coil themselves in my patience.  Work dreams grueling troubles I am poor town

Love and beasts:  work I am answering the creative words as a fake.


No one please be my life.  I need to act here fairly with a way of my mind -- safely crying answer.

Momentary tassels family crass is the need to let go of mashes not poppa.

Baby sorry is pagan change to its night:  borrow and let go of birds.

Home and Peace

I was here.  I was loving.  I loved my mother's laughter.

I was beautiful.  Today I live and it is peaceful.

I was peaceful.  I know my life is being right for my life.

I have my life here.  I like the peace of being home.

I have love.  My mother is the peaceful one.

I will be the one with the trees.

I guessed that my life would be treed.  After all, I am peaceful.


And now a way is winning to listen for love.  I hear the peace of my life.

I know the love that my mother sees.  I will be here to be trees.


I made love when I was trying to be home.  I was always salad.

When laughter and peace make life home, it is love to be good.


I will be here and I will feel the moments and love peacefully.

Momentarily is life.

I give you peace with home.  I have my own safety.  I have family.

Nothing is lace for my life.  I will be peaceful.

And now I will work.

Contempt for Others: Some Words

When I was between the ages of 4 or so and 10 or so, I underwent the beginnings of a social transformation within my own world that led to the state of being in which I now find myself.

I have in mind a few tableaux.  Age 4 or 5:  Nursery School.  Girl lifts her dress.  I stare. She smiles in triumph.  I see saw with Joy Brooks.  I kiss a boyfriend then we stop because it is clearly not allowed.  Girls tell me not to play with them because I "am not a girl."  I withdraw, begin to dissemble about myself.  The beginning of the end.  I am removed from all social contact,  I forget why, 

Age of 6.  I multiply six digit numbers together for the unbelieving response of same-aged kids I am visiting while my parents meet their parents.  I know myself to be innocent and without guile, unlike my peers.

I refuse to climb the monkeybars to the top, thinking I do not deserve to do so.  I do not run as fast as others.  Kids sort themselves into competitive groups. I belong to none of them.

Age Six or Seven.  Boys routinely open the door when I urinate sitting down and call me, scornfully and derisively, humiliating names.  By age 10 at camp I spend four days without defecating in order to avoid others in bathroom.

Again age four: I am standing in line on stairs leading to a kids' carnival ride.  The others are rough, rude, dismissive.

Age eight.  My father is in Korea.  I refuse to be any more than "Scotty" in the group being Star Trek.
 
I stare at older kids jumping into the pool with a sick knowledge of my unworthiness, difference, incompetence, uselessness, lack of belonging, insignificance.  I never recover.

Age nine:  I am with kids making something.  Kids push me away and laugh at me for my incompetence. 

Age six:  In first grade I am nervous and fidgety and scared and isolated.  The only friendly presence in the classroom is the teacher.  This is momentously true for many years.

Age 10:  I whack a kid behind me with a baseball bat.  I feel nothing.  I am filled with rage.  I spend all my time at recess by myself investigating ant hills.

Age 8:  I am on my third reading of all of Dr. Spock's baby book.

Age 10:  In confusion, fear and separation I watch my peers playing ball.  I am full of dislocation, anxiety, numb withdrawal and inferiority.

Fast Forward 8 years.  Freshman year at Stanford.  I am unable to say hello for six months. No one likes me unless I am drunk.  During one blackout I threaten a football player.  During another I throw up on skis of other dorm residents.  I threaten suicide.

Fast Forward 32 years.  I am at fault for my contempt for others.  I must integrate myself with my tormentors or face the rest of my life depending on family -- also without comprehension -- or in a nursing home, or die homeless and drug addicted.

Did I miss something?

I bullied people who didn't go to Stanford, who were people of  color, etc.

The intervening variable:  Marxism as a source of structured understanding.

I have missed something.

My innate cruelty, the anger of decades in a slow explosion, the botched and mistimed
sex change operation.

Psychiatrists and therapists are of the same ilk as those who tortured me.  So are most of the other people in the world.

What  will my fate be?

I live because I need to live.

I am a drinker.  Unfortunately, I cannot drink on my meds or with my medical condition(s).

My resentment grows every day as my numbed sexual response produces more and more frustration.

Why not become free for a week and die high?

I have no happiness from soft troubles.  I have only a Rage.

Maybe poetry will help.

Your
freedom
Depends
On
My
Pain.

I cannot write my healing here

Instead

Land bard:

Wear your life



Wear your love
And work home?

You are you?

Acting I said it:

Alive Wise

Word

Alive
Where

Weigh

I'm okay.

A tree, a palm tree,
Leans whole.

Laughter Why Bodies Pee

I hate a good thing which is aces is dreams.

I have feelings which I am not dreaming.

This feeling which I dream is love.

I am here. I like you.  I am alive.  I am aface.

I'm glad herelives love.

I will being will being here being.  I hear being.  I hear words.

I will being here being. I will being home being.

Now I will be here, here is where I am.

I felt like this and I didn't like my Mom asking what I was having.  That's my Goddess.  It is Mama who is my Mom happy Mama.  I don't know -- God is not all to my Mom.  That is what I want:  Peace and home and Mom dreaming of Mothers grieiving
Their Mothers.

Goms

Bombs.

Work not,without your wosnLoand

Strength God drinks.

I have no peace and I don't like it.

Ihated my Mom living for bafeel

I hated my Mom working my Mama as moose.

I hated an andk

Late

I hated being \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

I'm so ANGRY.

I hated a failing why failing Golden Bruce Drink Cruelty is not being.

Why bother heifer if she isn't dreaming oflove?

I hated being cold and I hate being a sore drug with aflac grown bruce moose.

I hate drinking drugs.  Drugs.

I hate vain drolls dreamsaverage.

Iweighed too much. And I hated my thoughts.  I thought I was hated trouble was my dream.

I hated ashes of my Mom anger bothered her.  She knew me as her life.

I am not m Mother's Life. I am what I am.

I feel worsse.

I ham

Language is not babies.

I made my Mom a failure.

I told her to make me free of family for her friends.

I have no patience as a woman for my Mother.

I hate my Mom baking raisins into loud work of my Mom.

Chelsea Goodwin was my mother's rake.

Dear Chelsea:

I am full of anger about whores.  I hate my life because I don't work.  I do't work because I am Bruce shitting like a cunt without body.

I am here.  I hate love without beatsts.

No one is here.

Why am I so fearful of pain?

My dad never bought me my Mama as reasons for right dreams.

I cannot make love without my life here mand
Dakg

Language and Market:

I found orgies rude.

NOw listen:  I a m a whore is here.  I hate bunts.

I am a woman working reasons.

Reasons:  Be Boo.

I have engines being a bitch.

I have feelings:  I have anger at my Mom for nothing.

I have pain at my Mother for being a good person and not treating me as my life is a faf
L
I
Lord of Brcu.

I

Life as a fb
Landgua

I failed.

My life and I my Mom need s love.

I have words:  I alive.

I was here to make my mother angry.

I am so sorry.

I hope people change.  I hope I change.  I hope my Mom is hopeful for her life of freedom.  I have no wight to be a hole.

I ham

Lag

No one is here to be gruel.

Now it is my life to listen to.

H
La
 fa

I give up this pain called a girl.

Language fails naked language

No one bothered dean.

Language faeels

I feel.

I love you being bird.

Ilove you being hopeful.

I hated what I did to my friends:  I was bird to my Mom.  I am not God.

I am not God.

I am not God.

I hate anger being my mind.

I am not my midn.

Please be good or not.

I am here.  Words are pain without peace.

Estrogen was my alafka
face drug work is not bired.

I hate baba bo bo.

Go please:  It is not you I hate.  for My Mom I needed and I am here.  I am here.

I wanted to let go of was that Bob?

Estrogen was my love for my life.

I hate dinking wand

Land is boo.

Oral sex is not my mind.

I have no being in my imind.

laf
I like Landg
I am Bruce.  Drinking.  shit.

I hate that.

Julia is my Mom.  I am not my Mom.

Confusion:  Work is Mom.  Mom is love.  Work is love.  I hate that crap.

Because:  I am not working dreams for money.

Fuck the dreams of a fuck.

I am not here to act badly.

My dreams are to have what I need to be loving families drink.

I hte a

Land is not God.

My dreams ar

Land is not Aasld
Land is not racism land is not paidn.

Racism is not happy.

My dreams are to make lovie

O r
Land is not body.

I am what I am.

My dreams are to l(orgies) a fudk


Lord drunkenness is drunk.

I waodl
I am ford of butch.
o.

I am buthc
I hate book.

I like anger and it is my mind being Buce Jukll land is beelble

I feel bird.  Baba is drunkenness.

I hate omens of vail.  Cost oska
I racist drinker is not my mind
 Drunks is cold;

I hfave

Land is pain.  If without bebe.  Land is racism is fland

Fame is foll
aRacism is loose roand

Land is a racwit

Land is falfnd

Rraldn
gI here.

I like what I am .  I need your love.

Here I am.

Here I am.

I love you.

I love you.

I am here.

I love you.

I am here.  I am your love.

I am here.  I am here. and I am here open not here.

I am fa

Land is here

I am alive.

aLand is not life.

I need love.

I give love.

I am here.

I am alive.

I am here.

I love youl.
I like what I am.

I feel better now.

Live!

I like the way I pee.