Monday, September 28, 2015

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.

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