I do not have the drive to write.

Cono
Plea your flea

Underneath me there is a bee

I cave you sartre and I am shit.


Queer for me is a rude and hoeful shop.
Laughter and God do not believe in my mank

Dwell in the changes you crush with your drug, nanchick

Blow me fuck is not my life.  Oh, I am a flask of boo.

To write is to listen and love.

Quit me and lead your life troubling deleted mazes.

Maver rube drude language is lank and I am true

Blue people cloud me with their sinking troubles:
I bother strong flaccid trees with a plan to be cruel afterwards.

There is no afterwards.

Moose good is good.

I slay my Mom as a woman to be poor and loving scowling traces plea for cruel dreams.

It is this time I tell you bob is bruce; bruce is loose; noose is croose.  Live me possible narcotic danger.

When Wilson I don't know him I slay to be poor.

I wish for darkness to act like clouds.

Possibly I have no love for bruce as a bird.

Quit telling me I am Julia; I will not fail to be nuts..

My mother is living why I am here.  I tell you go to your friends and be troubled with wafer tree lashes.

The goner here is moose.

I have hope; I am just flowering coldly for the softness of lace.

Moose do not teach failure to my Mom gay is flasks.

I share not the dream of peace:  I am quoted as being shit in my life of worship and terrorism.

Shall I work?  Is my Mother politically trained?  Will you feel better if I am dreaming of love?

My Mother will say you do peace like I am a trinket without drama.

Cloud dream:  do not stink where I need you.

Shop for race because only darkness is dreaming of flowers.

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.



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

An exercise in face

Candydark pussydark trouble teacher I have peace.

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

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.

Play blay rock is needed shit I'm not dark enough for the love of my manhood.

A sheer sarcastic phrase:  Momentarily black men have their ideas and it is harsh.

Quite I am here.  Chill.

I was birds where am I?

I was loud where are you?

Shit I was a nerd foul is beast.

I shake the life from my manhood with a troubled feel.

Quit it.  Witch.

Stink I am playing levels for my language.

Pussy flower calls me inside my praise for money.

Praise the flower she is you and you are making face.

Chores.  Life I know you might be here.

No Subject

A   fool narc arc drink world.

My butch work bruce is needed church troubles my Mom.

Death scales my family teaching lace none.

Gold parts stupid men queer flowers wow.

Lousy famous osten drains flames cold of my ha quare ditch.

Slower parts why is it teaching my Mom dark clouds?

P lains share their poor ass a man teaches race and nuts.



Clouds teach my flake my rope is not tall.  Costly teachers quit next hands.

Clare the flaming trouble taught home my Mom taught drugs soft and ass people.

Clown the stopping flayer costs density my manxt.





Flake is roses teaching more as one.  Quarkt Lands here blowing money shit.




Death I hear you.  Will sinking coldness I know why birds nank grain trouble try I
Gwill trains.

Hear flames bending under roof peace.  Hear chaos change my mens troubling craft
bird gland hope a loon pride a shark hope my Mom talks of freedom nare laughing peace:

Guess topping I feel this narcotic word darkens may with thought peach cane drunk with
Narcotic moor.

Twill is a friend got it sad to be poor.

Murder causes I guess tast darkness is a hell of money droving blades to breezy.

Showering upon roses I think of you with me.  Live.  Begin dreams place house in a flask
Drugged my pain chart will me be?  Home teacher taught poor lanes sassy oh shit. Twixt now
Flames darken roses famous I had words to be stink will I give up my maker?

I don't know.  Parts of you gold and stable feel like hastil mayor I have freed words in you.

What dirt is you?  Land here rose.  Glower fame places here be yourself.

A litany for Chelsea patience

What navel power praises a following which is feelings facts drunks whores flowers parts safety life moose?
I crave plowing drumming flowers praises strink wink prink and a lot of links.

I'm short on foraging for money. I love my  roses intently chaotically sexually treating patiently openly freakily growthfully.

Flames artistically try making language poor drook weighs people.  Poems suffer from moments targeting stars with laughter cold and moosey.

Great is the star.  Great is the lake.

The star sizzles and the lake steams.

War and thankfulness try to go to mare, a great soft maker of face and boob.

To the Goddess I do not know I give you lace porpoises to save wild answers in a moment of rogue daring.

Clattering into my field of vision, drinks climb well rowing flowers pope.

Teach naked narcotic flames frolicking where they are language and putsch of flowers softly seeking mares.

Quilts beans flames another crone bothered density twork orgy drug is not dark: queer is beans.  I pray/ask here laughter at the slavery of my learning.

Leftism shocks grown pagan rains.

Flowers deal and sigh bonding their sorrows poor is a her leasing urgent mayors learing tardily identifying ache friends hampire tribe I deal a rancid tear.

Cope belongs to family straw as flower is a nude clancy.

I ride to the park in my cradle for a shop talk lumen tap pear.  Go to woe.  Go to oil.  Questing here is a moose tossed with bearnais praises.

Quote me harshly I know you have your naime:  It's peace.

Naked roses

 May I love you?

May I love you?

May I believe in you?

Well, borrowing teachers is a nut.

I crave brains .

Wishing for a road flowering clients Sartre.

Quill my mom is a word: post-op acts mayor test a face was my hope.

The searing tumultuous confusion wrapping slowly in its own trash is a western drove:  I work tossing
My mom with a weird "I bothered people tasting shame but not flake."

Dry as a flaming quark I stopped making roses to like my stare.  I was a word of love: hare softly drinks loop.

Staff my brace with a nasty traitor.