Land why bother?

These are strictly notes to myself.  That you may read them is an acknowledgment of consent to my right to write to myself as I please, without consideration of consequences good or ill.  The need to be honest outweighs the need to exercise caution.  If you do not agree, you do not have my consent to read my words any further.

DFuck oaldf

Cocksucking stunk black black is a man world of peace.  Sorry,, my mind got my mind interested in drunken sick Gods like my mind is a woman partly tarking laughter and partly drunk on stink.

My failure to understand thoughts that my mind tosses out means that I am sinking into a flower of moose, a dahlia, poisonous and plosticx.

Covision I thought would [I can't think ofd the word], "allow" men to be thought of as God the painful faggot I neer taossed land is words.
  Be no one.  Be your freedom.  Idfd you don't see me as work, then I must be free.  This is right.  I am peepee, I am popoo, I am a rohrshach for your xlass.Many dots are apparently topping the prissy grain ofd your teinkinta.  Slam my meess , vut don't go away.

The Pope of Nastiness

Stepping onto the narrow rope bridge over a rocky chasm,
I have loved friends.
I have brought my life a land of hope.


Today I create a friend with my slow fascinated somber crap.
Illness is a pagan rote flaming in a slave place:
The whole fact not a brass triangle.


Cold is a fussy shaida with my clan (is that pagan?)


The troubles to which I am inured toss the claims of brass to a fair blank world.


I sorry I am a pup.


Quilting the leash into my crows tension I guess I am here.

Bulkage

maka fake rone dotch.  Plu blue glue flutch.  A singer boss blames stuss.  Glowering flowering drying pus.  Lousy angry stopping bus.  Cruel jewel angering druss.


Sickness bitness is a fling; queer and possible are a-ring.  Glowing, flowing, I see blue; cold and godiless, sex is flue.


Topiary, row


Plow a famous girl to do.  I am a fool to be so crustu.


Noisy and ponderous dark and fat, I see men with no hair at.  The flames are all troubled, the scenes have bubbled; gold and costliness are a plat.


Donate your reasons; glean your flea sons.  Guild your me sons, and glare me at.


Toat the rye, gloat the sky.  I am a tall season of gnat.


Pussy tosses a round dark flare; I sicken your flowery hair.  Stupid is a willow with no kazoo, Flamboyant carotid lasts till two.

Totally noncreative.

Please sanka.  Please dons.  Please wake up.  Please sink.  Will Darkness strob gatcha's drain?  I will never be a word for leftism.  Chaos and roses thought of rentals for the droft.  Quasi six is a notch of my freedom.  It's skinny and free.


Lass peace wonk dreary fandom.

A Phoe Fried in Trust

Ways a (Sar) "Andra") boldly g"isses":  Quirts and lanes strongly above family is a man's claim.  I seek "rane" cold darkness softly blaming argument for bombs and dunces.  The guess is that I bother my friends with beans.  I bother buying my mind gl"ane" coldly and m"ookoo."  Gl"abular" pr"ein" goes to its own drug face sucking birds with my mind density sees itself in its own dumb place, a bu gu.


San Fake Row Do A Pap Will Skill Graze or Boo Dog Peace Save It for BoBo, (a"chimpanzee/gorilla")


O fantasy, where is they comforting caress, thy slick plane on a jonker planet?


The crazed anda quarto  land


Close up is a railing of my tall sucker.  You who dither and blather with my soft cook will never or always sometimes live facing the world and meaning to cook.




Doi Ti Doi Goyische Blank.

Mother Goose fucked a Moose

go to your tripe.
Your god is a bang.


Do your language
Cold because of my mace.


Density darkens it;
And peace is a killing face.


No one bothered me but now
There is typing and laughter:


Do the swill; do the krill; do the bill; do the mill.

Klaxon Drew

                             Ai a blame okens waste where my mind drubs her friend tonto clommy.
                               Kindness star in the strongness of a flower; with blonde straw; with blame to her cr                            ai narch.  Songs stick me with a tribe songing bop.  The book of money stale is
                                here.

                                Change is a bear tossing a flower in a straw language.  The base crane calls
                                 Moments and I am supped in a bench called top me with rome.

                                 Cape Valparaiso tops me with a foaming wave from banks of the stent I pick in her
                                  Pink western drug of my rape land (stinking bulls lie close to my brains, tall and
                                  Flaired with peace, cold and strong).  BeDee calls me climbing up to the faces
                                   Of my blank trust.

                                   Sharks worry me:  their tops word rump: coldly sane is my machete with no need fo                                for priests and their shame:  ask the God, a man soft and bland,
                                   whose quality pricks my flaws with a cruel paste, as borrowing my mind
                                    softly I am Bruce angry as death.

                                    So much pain, so much rose.


********************************************************************
W                                What role for my effort as need (Qureshi drawls his flake with me drama.)
                                    As usually free as my mind climbing cloudy pale  blazing stars, the angel
                                     Falls into my  doughy body and we slip calling for our trains to blow the
                                      Whistle my mind feels inside the chief bowls of brine.  I ask for mandarin
                                      De Beauvoir to give a hat to the dream of quill, pacific love.

                                      She stems the frank word, passing tom and shearing my rockface with
                                      My fond abrading of clay.