Censor


The pagan cause I guess parties with its land brine and stars;
Quit feeling cruel work is boring so I work hard to act alive.


Nothing works and I am pushing a word talking it is here.


Word pauses, he loves pausing pausing, he loves, I love Allah pausing.


Work darkness hard positive pantries work phamily stars are my drug.


Try it.


She knew me; I knew her.


I worked language glowing positively positively hatefully positively.


I suck positives poorly darkly.  He knew me.  Positively.


I belong quark positive positive.  He knew me.  Work.

I have to write something that makes me money

Money claws its flack, raising tossed apartments:  work.
Money claims cretes ploace.
Sorry my mommy got mw a flower.


Racism soars phamily sucks drunk its own wares.


I don't hatwe my Mom.  I just thought of hwer bwecause


It is friwndly I don't hope she is alive.  I hope I know why
I botherwd tired troubles.  I wish I loved her as she loved me.


When am borwd


Racism stwwrs crwtw.


I goldwn  racism is another flowwr of my macy coldnwss.  He needed I have friends.


Please God is not hwew.  I wish you knew flames of my mother.  Where am I?


Why is body God?


Why is that bastard drwaming clovenly his bothwrws crap.


Words he needed are a steer.


Blown, family caters to my anduck  Noisy Noisy Frwedom caused it.  I am a here.  Poem is not here.  Cause is not laugh is here.  Plock cause toss.  He knew.  It was rude.


Phuck stinking atrocfitiesw.  I hate my asshole because you were a fewling.  Chaos!  My mom died and I was afraid to make my own laughter work charges darkness.  Why belong here?  You suck.  You are the one I found in my craft and you wrote my banns sorry it is a flame not God.


Flow is blow.


No Flow is a blow sow, it is pro.

Woe To My Mind; Woe To My Past; Woe to My World

I cried when she faced banns , whatever those are.


I faced her -- my mother -- and she knew me, her daughter,
Was glowing; I hated bothering her mind, possibly annihilating
A woman.


I saw her darkly in her life; she bothered me with love, possibly I know that.


Money caused me worse flowers; I saw my mother plainly.


Words will not believe I am here and beautiful; I am not peaceful; I am not
Right.


Believe your ranting is a kink that is fearful and sick.


I wish to make possibly drama that is a home for her priestly presence.


Worlds drink of my mother's words.


Softly she knows I know I love her.

The Bits and Pieces of My (Catch in the Breath Preventing Communication) Hoffer boboo glike.

My mother dried tonight.


She bothered my mind bothered my mind.


I told her I loved her and I lied to be alive.


She loved me because I am a hostile whore.


I loved her and I worked my mother for peace.


No one is a bother to my house.


No one is worker in my world.


Flames peacely are tossed; poems are dark.

E Me Blu E Gee Dark Pook I Saw Drail a Worg/ker l blink

Fold


I annihilated dreams that told me to be family.


I clouded dark popes with a plan destiny cloned me.


Please eet soft planes dark pieces saw me cold and doubled (teachers).


I cloud plume booboo.  Keep him moosy call him call him in trost.


Gwo Poo.  You knew clink is a nart top.  My minds hops.  Sartre claimed
He was a black target.  I know he knows he loved his mind targeting patience;
I know it was Dean who strong  blond tom trees he needs toop plook is nude.


Wharesa plonk is he here?  Did my Mom weight for here?


I saw my softness stinking its clink cold top is a need a moment possibly past my
troubles.  He neeed tears.  He need poo.


You saw my mind talk he was here talking he was plond in his fucki his need his ront.


Climb me.  He is targeting I know it.  I know bombs cause dfriends to die because of terror.


Where are you?


My mind caused this.  You know you need tom.  He called me soft.  He saw love when I tried to
con his life with trees.  I will forever inhale his bond.  His concept of bombs positivie ingst.


Will I please softly toss it here?


It is here.  I am here.  I saw you love me.  You were soft mine tossed you he teased me.  God no.


Poem of poems I know you.  Why are you a friend positive here I love you.

Trying to be a Genius Original Poet

Clonazepam
removes my sense of what death is and thus
the knowledge that I am alive.

What I know I see don't I?

I see plenty, but right now, only one infinity of particulars,
or an infinite infinity of particulars condensed or placed elsewhere.

The library glows oh it is this family, a word, poem, yet another word.

Ghus allunt western drinker.

Jamie called and what it was blossomed and it is now hate called a rank.

Tails of Pastor Starkotic

The grim evening closed.  The grim evening closed its stroll.  The grim evening belongs where I am, poor, stupid, clueless.  The grim even ing weeks wars and it is positive it is alive.  World of my mind , what is a faggot for blonds?


I feel worse is it my mind?
\Close pastor starkotic worth it to be your straft blanging wise school boloney people it said that my mother is my mother worth every place tribe waise tests change boloney o word it sucks stop it stupid queer indry a lafing worker treating me it is dud.


Polls.


Money works its money in its itches.


Tell my thought it gone stop it.  Tell my mom I live here with my brother workth it.  Got my mom and she was  ranger gruelly he gruelly.  Sto[ here.  he pulled in his dream and died working for my wasys of mopping crap out of the Goddess' stinger.


Bull shit it is here.


Scars niggers stupid stupid stupid is body.


Fasting works in you r land of pleasing stanger.


Boss, you care.;l




Pastor starkotic closes my mind falling and death was alive in its love at or bnoop.  Death is faces.  I see I wages are transsexual pleasure and sick pain.  Wise star place is not here with darkness staying a cold ancient chastity.


These tails are long and arfunkel got me troubled under a bridge.


So much drunkenness.




God is a pastor of night death and black bulls steepling their love as a drag bob.  Cklamming.  I hate words sorely and it is it is words that make peace feel ago a


I saw my drugs.


Bull suckers.


I suck ass.


I think I golden bush.


He loved my swars.


Af uck is his deathing world.


I wish you believed I am alive and free!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1