Centuries

The fact is that Sylvia created (or is that a projection?) feelings that were suffered.

I was a nerd. She embraced my apparent dysfunctionality and understood the suffering that I sought.

She deftly created suffering as a way to make life happy. How is that possible?

For me, she did everything that would make anyone believe her darkness. I found it irresistible.

She conned me into loving her (I only made her seek help from me). I conned her into loving me (She only gave me hopes).

Pain that is suffering is not suffering. It is cruel and foolish to feel that you are paired to do love as target.

I embraced a very strong and kind person. She gave life.

Temples:

Very womanly; a parent for any lost person; a hopeful and feeling person.

I wish she was still here.

For you, Sylvia, I say, Be?

She's home.

the death of the sort i am

Terror in the face of love

Seems perennially cold


Letter to Mom

I try to greet this day as one time to give life
I try to make this course suffer

Literally there is pain
I have found a portion strong.

Selfish to focus on netherworld.
It's life that I want to deal with.

Goddess is dealing with Goddess
As you like

She wants time to know that women
Mean path.

I reasoned this for my sufferer:
mother.


Cancellation of knowledge.







Assertive slow nerd coals a friend to make life
She knows what you know; that's love to love.

I cycle backward to a mensch who crawled for costs.

I knew what love meant: good for doing what I like.

I cruise charities.





Tenacious mother asks life as here to leaking of bored warrior.

I do call upon you to give your love to your dreams.



Mother goes toward dreams.
I ask for her to say, love.

She knows I mean, boring.

Tense is love when whereabouts are pent in
failure.



A mother veiled for her hopes is true.

I can like; I can learn; I can feel





I passed through the skin of another.
I saw myself in the pores of her skin.

She may well read this.

That is one of the sources of my psychosis.
Thinking that transformation was only through life

Rocks and stars, men and lovers, darkness and terror
I love you, Darling.




I can let you know that I like sex as a way to
woo people.

I can let you know that I dream because of
a woman.

She is mercurial.

Vincent Minelli

Mostly this is surial.

Woman mean love.
McHale sailed a sea


Method of women
Need

Nerd closed.

One bizarre street

I entertain little green people in my head. I truly hope you believe that.

I also acknowledge that whenever I write that I am at some sort of impasse that delays, disorders, even destroys what I have to say.

What is that impasse?

"I want suck"

Derive that.

That's not the impasse but a symptom of it a version of which I verbalized to my mother tonight. I immediately said I wanted to go to bed, and attributed it to too much time spent here with her.

I find that good things start with being strong. I am about as strong as the knees of a little green person from Mars who is a long distance runner who consistently lands on the wrong part of his foot.

Barren, angry, fruitless.

Impasse.

I cannot impregnate or be impregnated. I don't know whether this is the problem.

Another impasse.

See love. Impasse
Derive freedom. Impasse.

Correction: coldness leads to pain.

Impasse in every direction.

A friend to me is the diversity of knowledge. A friend to me is the hope that all is fear. Triple impasse.

Fear makes me know nothing. I am a cruel strong but impassable poem.

Which is to say an anti-poem.

Now I know from my reading that there have been "anti-poets" for decades. I have to work around the impasse.

Sex for me is dark. It is free but not supportable. There is no good in love that goes to money.

I go to money as a way to flow. I go to money as a way to serenely escape pain.

I go to love as a way to free myself from safety.

Pain is money.

Peers are cruel.

I impassively interest myself in nothing except drugs because there is no knowledge that I have which anyone likes.

Deep, and free, and painful.

Spinning anger, frustration, peace along a cylindrical dreary drum.

Excoriation. Pain. Pain.

I cannot make anykind of thought with this anti-thought drug dominating my mind.

Feel what you feel.

A hostile truth is money. Costs too much to live. Me Goddess of womanly darkness.

I only want to say that you are home as you make it.

The pain of a brain which is forced into a kind of coagulation, a lump, a non differentiated dysfunctional death of its own joyful dance is monumental to itself.

I like freedom. I can't go on without knowing what these antipsychotic drugs are, but I can't know because they deprive you of self knowledge in any way but a clumsy summing up. The dance of spontaneity is gone.

Little by little I am dying from coldness.

I know that I share with you all this so that you will not dream tonight of me.

Please don't remember this pain.

Mother goes to drugs.

#3

Texas text[books] is mean[ing] to life.

I scramble the anger because it's better than knowing sucking as life.
I think that my sucking is tired.

Being sucked cries.

Treating apples like suckers is mother's failure.

I begin to feel that you are someone I have loved.

I know that you still feel toward me p[e]ace.

Terrible to give change and know that you sensualise terrorism for its coldness.

I think to begin that hope for her.

Sensuality is being cold when you are money.

I hope that you will see that I am a friend.




THE KNOWLEDGE OF OUCH

Why you know life is that you are her.

You think of you; you make change into body.

Care that you need.

Now for mother.

I love home.

She loves rogue beast.

I can do love as a feeling; better love than change.

I can do change as a person; better change than die.

Merely knowing one person makes you suck.

Knowing that means you can listen for needs.





GOD

She created that; I wanted to know.

She made one; I am happy.




Peace to you

Is this MY blog or YOURS?

I find myself writing again just a few hours after the last alarmingly disconnected though somewhat productive procession of thoughts toward a conclusion that I am not going to make a sufferer for drugs.

I am knowing lots (much) displeasure.

See that you also are feeling creepy.

I make you know that senses of freedom give love but I don't do anything that is good because there is no strength in me.

I suppose you have contempt for this. Plenty of you have expressed this contempt. I have contempt for it.

There is no good in sucking people for a way to deal with a horse (me).

I like to know what others are doing. I like to know why I am sarcastic. I like to know why I give suffering such importance and power. I don't like it. I don't like that conviction that everyone has that I am poor.

A good starting point: poverty.

I have several thousand dollars. I may not ever use any of it. I may give it back to my family whence it came.

Even having this money I know that I can't do shit because I am peaceful.

This is making me angry.

You try to tell me that I am foolish. You try to make me feel that I can make good.

If that's true then how do I decide love is strong? I do not know how to make happiness for good. I must be convinced I am not good. Who convinced me of that? It was probably fools.

I wish you would have something else besides me.

I know you do.

I want to make love as a way to feel like a woman. That is of course a laughable crime against correct politics.

I hope correct politics goes to a place where it can affront and confront nothing but its own needs.

Live, person.

How?

You say.

I say, be good. Need is cruel,.

Bashing life is hopeless.

Give yourself a knowledge that giving is free.

I am foolish.

I am using my mother because she has to be nice to me.

That is why I have to leave.

Bored.

death is nothing because it only likes thugs.

I am a her.

Thuggery is boring.

Sex is a pain.

Dreams make love creative. I only make changes to be hopeful toward life.

(Aggressive/yearning(demanding))

I don't like fun. I don't like home. I don't like giving love to the friends I have because they are dark and I am death.

I hope you will love me. I hope you can listen to the knowledge that Goddesses like dreams.

I need a hug.

Men, Darkness, Freedom

I'm tired of being pissed off. It is cruel to stare.

This is deciding about graduate school.

I know that everyone creates love.

I know that everyone loves being happy.

I was happy. I just couldn't stand not having love for trying too hard.

The Goddess changed me. I was trying to like one who was loving, who was happy, who was a mother.

I wanted to go for my own life. I wanted to go for love.

Now I try to make love suck.

It is not love to make love suck.

I want to be a good lover.

I want to be happy with strength, which is home.

I want to give love not be horror.

Maybe you understand that life strongly loves happiness.

I fucked up.

Maybe there's good in love. Maybe there's happiness in writing.

Maybe I like hope.

Maybe I can live.

I like dreaming.

I like Julia.

I prefer to love my crime, which is money.

That is why I need to love death.

It is only by dying that I will like suffering.

I hate love for making life suffer.

Picture the love of love. It is my hopes for change that has made me foolish.

I am a crack fool.

I can only let my friends love what I know for myself is true: hate makes change murder.

I need to embrace what I know. That is love for life.

I love life and I need to like what I know. What can I say that will be strong for the hopes that I wanted to live?

I wanted to make a loving place and now I have made pig.

Sexuality calms lovers.

Money is suffering.

Money is nothing.

I want freedom that is being.

Love for life is life and that is love.

Give for yourself what you are happy to have.

Crack is poor. Crack is suffering. Crack is sarcastic.

I need to make love to what is my home.

That is thought and drugs.

Drugs lead to nothing; thought leads to pain.

I must live for her.

Teach your knowledge.

I teach that I love you.

Be loving and I will live.

Strengthen me and I will be hopeful.

Please let this anger change.

I want to write about a boss of prostitution.

That is why I can make love and make death for prison.

I am a drug addict because of life. I need to make love home.

Life as lover; life as cruelty. There is fool.

Feed your knowledge.

Tell your seasons what they are: life, straw, peace, mother.

As you love, love your needs.

I need to hope. I need to live.

Make your name: gold is zero.

I'll love gold.

That's how I made love: it's me.

Tension is love. Anger is Julia. Knowledge is feeling.

I want to do what is peaceful. That is to know life for a person who is hope.

You and I and the Goddess free us from hell.

Write to your money and make her know that you are a secretary for nothing.

Poems make change help life.

Teach health to boss.

Bay is rote.

To all who wanted me to feel good about myself, thank you

Sailing a famous skiff toward Atlantis,
God failed to know that sex is love.

That's the fort.

Be yourself.

Think.

Dream.

Feel.