Write What I Feel

 I don't want to be my blank grave.
I don't want to be my wife is Bruce.

I don't want my body to be pain.
I don't want anger from my body.

I don't care for my Mom as life patient dreams:  she is hard to make whoring is not love.

 I have no money for babies and shame.

Why did I try to make you free?  Why did my Mom live for life is weird dreaming Graves poles.

Dancing why I am I here?

I can't be pain for my work.

I hate crafting density and bad things for my Mom for her tree.

She is awesome when I am flawed.

 I wish darkness found me flaming for brains tossed in tough love.

Quit being night and birds.

Quit being lord of my measures.

Dean is my brother.  I want to be free of my man who is roving wows.

  Climb here and be free of foes that wish for trouble like me.

Caves and you please be her fancy raft.

I catch myself being a reveler in my superior pleasure wallowing in self-made pain.

I find myself famous justly for dust and flings with my tree.

You who wish for hope like masses topping is work.

I saw that and it was bank.

Work not here.  I have sartre lousy in pain.  I have poor money lousy in brain.

Carts sanding why I am a nerd toss my mind with fingers and marsha.



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An exercise in face

Candydark pussydark trouble teacher I have peace.

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Oman is this a fink?

I deal with you and you say you are happy.

A poem for Moose

Land is alive; I am draining it Sartre is peace blowing in the praise of birds.

Queerness stops martyrdom from My mom.

Keep my Mom hopeful.

You love babies; you are babies; you are rain; you are love.

Quite is african dryness teach me laughter in my waste.