"Be Poetic, I say"

I answered the need to listen with a
Moment of Answer.

The Answer is a round loud cruel
Round loud cruel loud round cruel
I am a world of rascal.

Oh in this world I am a loud round
cruel round loud cruel rascal.

In this kind of writing no one needs
To say there is my stranger.

I am strange in one pace:  Not ever
Do I say -- Myself is a loss.

I am bored with no one to act nicely.

I cannot say I am round or loud or
Cold.

Or Angst or Boned or Drunk or Shit
Or Cold or Boned or Drunk or Shit
Or Pained or Lost or Cruel or Nothing.

I seek what is alive in the deal.

I seek what is my own.  Tree. 

Oh is there a naked road with no
Answer?  I don't write because I
Am Lewd.

Many of my laughs are life.

I am a world of rude loud crooked
Nasty men.

I am a world of men.

I am a lost orc, worse than a maybe.

I am a lewd drunk cruel actress.

I drew the pain from bosses and made it
Loud and drunk and stupid and lewd.

I sicken the drunk and the lewd.

Maybe where passion and narcissism laugh
I am lone and drunk and stupid and bland.

I seek your pony.  I seek your dream.

Elevated girlfriend wists the mansion and
Writes a large masquerade.

O well, is there a loud cruel pain with
A leg for blazing breezy's peaking rape?

Nothing is my strong mesh with a needful
Rude laughter.

Pope of God, be you part of love?  I am
Right with a stinking flower of my aping ashes.

NOthing got me dead.