A lover

Distress political police
Failing
Apples that cause woman

Ambling

Poem

A Meeting.

Rabelaisian Montagnards.

Dickens as priest.

You who glide with being,
Sail for your affirmation
Of Peace.

You who do what I do,
Feel what I feel,
Live what I live,

Home sucks as a place for a party.



Dense as a whore, I love without needing grief.

Dead as a poem, I run toward a postilion with all
My owls affirming goals.

You have brought this poet alive.

I have loved this knowledge and now I give you
Sartre's anger:

Wow, Now, I please money for a hustle.

You never caused me to have a tip.

With this need, I ask for this girl to meet her plenum
(Dimmed vocabulary)

With a feeling of a possible mostly painful crash
Into Embers.

Towels
Clay
Men

Read
Change
Feel
Add
Graduate.

Wise

Me a coffee.

Men with offerings.

Offer Men.

Poems run for belief.

I father a hooker.

She dreams like a woman.

I can't like this poem.

It's simple to know that she faced her own blind teeth.

I cried because she was a flag.

I tried to go for empresses.

This knowledge only cries -- leave.

You wanted this treatment (Western freedom asks police for flowers)

Good Day