acid poem

The Nearest Gay RV Park in Oregon

Where and when will my friends steal god here averagely?  Why called face by cold shingles underneath words like dick and rape.  Work kindness no more.  May a bottom flower swallow his face fucking cock old people call assholes descend finally alone crime is beautiful where Shangobleeds into a hateful heart.

His dick will no longer descend for free past my lips or into a green word.

Die motherfucker for shamming firs as law.  May Tillamook logs smash your teeth without cease Craig.

Freedom has died

I have worked on some naked men

Mentally ill people are nice
Mentally ill people are men
Mentally ill people are God

fucking woman (me) africa
sack (fire)

I am unemployed

My Dreams -- and how to fulfill them

print out and edit my blog

read heidegger, sartre, merle-ponty -- all my books

apply to graduate school in philosophy, religion, english, latin either or

keep my room clean

fight oppression and exploitation

love my friends whether they or I do meth or not

find someone to love who loves me

make peace with myself and others

stay alive

get along with my brother

know beauty
become an artist
show beauty

write about art

get a job

write an outline

Sucks

escapades in logic
a poem

I weeld rock with sheeny pain
Dark words stab my failures

I am a creator of black Sartre

Without God Sartre borrowed
Rock to laugh at men here

Disco blackness pains me
War

anyone

fuck books

I see in front of me a computer screen and a keyboard

I am lost seeing all my literature circulate in front of me, from Jane Austen to John Cheever, from Gibbon on the Roman Empire to the Bible.  I am drunk on caramel flavored whiskey.

Is there a compassionate word?  In and out God determines ways which are alien to me.  See yourself here as a questioner of words and ideas without limit except that of death.  Am I upside down to my brother Dean?  Am I a bother or is there a path without abuse of the privileges I found when I was younger?

I am four times without words in a film by David France about   "The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson.'  Wait, I want to show this to my brother.

hope

for anything breath makes alive

rusty grieves roman grief a brick raw law is roman press on raw bombs.  I am upside down.  fathoming art.  The loud words come in my voice.  Race/murder/men.

what brown god bars my lines alive?  what poem here heals hope alive?

Tension dies brown alive brown hearts Sartre god deals back raw her.

I do not find entertainment in death











SHOUTING raw bombs pee alive where bink laows language cancer mack is canker god.  Men act nowhere for hock of my waste.









Inside the atom I see raw crock denying mack alive for reasons of raw preachers.  Inside out preachers lie on the railroad track as the train charges toward the race? war in my paper.

ILGO raw money sucks.

I spread dreams upside down above a whore I made.

half an hour

what what what rape patience prayed work prayed art prayed ocean.  Can I breathe?  where beyond war where where patience law where where is wark death is cold I like art when where bothering I am crock here what is woman here tasting danger danger raw anger is open here why anger shit is birds all over here bother bother good damn law where what is jargon act bother is shaman a bother crashes bothering.  The art works bothering sharks  banding bothering man alive bothering my work Sartre darkness sex is bothering me.  Where I bother God is his breasts where war dives here like bothering rock.

Devils suck their rape foolish anger is patient death here I am rosy a presence of bombs foolish taste of mom and death plains goddamn love shits I am art a brain alone with nothing flowering here outside gods test life here possibly dark breasts.  Cons ache a lot where I am that waste of poop all over god he is shit in my rock.  Death upside down is teachers acting bothered alone acting shitty upside down with their answers for men to stupefy God.  Here is people teaching rape talking foolishly for art god slams sharing it is god here pained upside down for me art cons Sartre alive for God here is death shitting on me because nothing poops here underneath my black Sartre all over God for his stink of poop as I love breasts.

Africa creates black art for bombs of my boob here is beans dastardly rock sucks it alive.   PAY ME

That's sixteen minutes

I'm begging for help

Withdrawal.  New York universe.  It is sad to eat m;y kirk.  The wizard died yesterday.   When I sell raw rape I loathe her race.

Evil families hurt hands dangling below my crotch.

The careful words.  Africa hates freaks.

I am violent  when cages laugh.

Deodorize language.

I suck as I shrink lawnguage.

Dill doughs pile higher as I retch fries.

Killin g o
raw menses stinks

This is a blank page

lectures/selections

the intramural sports
shake my head bang
into a wall

Backwards and forwards
the interned excitement travels

into which cloud

I turn upside down

an arc of golden stuffed flesh
without which

I am but impotent and powerless.

Guilt bubbles furiously on the horizon
for my beard grows
language

My words  black me out

I am hanging by a thread over a pool of boiling meth.

And furthermore, what is substance?

I used my happiness to hate people

I know a man named Joe
sanitation
ouch





ick



moss


will

Sylvia
peel

Angry woodwork spoken in anger

word dripping in sweat

scary

I am scared -- bombs


I walk too much above the  hole.

Oh Geez

Sickness dies every day
There is poison in my cup

What folds my words?
Inside and out the work goes on.

Nine Days of Terrorism

Thoughtlessly I press up against the dire column of poems that inhabit the books below and to the left of me.  It is still the time of day when god desires his words to become lord of drug habits.  Killing the insides is a matter for society to attend.  With my lovers I retch underneath myself widowing a long armadillo from Georgia.  Below and above go the fliers de lis of fame and rotten broken safety.  Will is here pounding my words into a lonely freedom cruelly egoistically loaded with sou r prancing graters.  The cheese s pouts in a fountain for all to parrot and I bounce off the walls as if made of rubber.
\

Quilt this and write of your parents' love for you and all the anger you have contained for face.

Keel nay rope.

Timebomb

Blowing myself up is probably not a good idea.  Neither is blowing up a policeman or the President.

So I'll just write what may be on my mind or whatever it seems the Goddess wills.

hacking women is the computer of my rose bartending an equal for a drink this evening up and down my brother's openness in the back.  This thought makes me abuse my column of pressure which stands int for he whole body inside which is me or less than me.

Why I took a shower today.

Over a week since.

I am going down a limited speed road with no one to look out for but plenty of peop0le to look after me.  If I lie about drug use the  n I can stay in the adult foster home.  Without it I would be homeless. It seems useless to propose to Jamie that I send her a thousand dollars so she can move to Ohio.  I think she wants me to be seasoned by his rude institutionalization .

Guilt is a head.  Deed ,iron moron to god.

Assets include the ir is of muses above.  Dear must please allow my words o gravely bizarrely attain kin d less.

Estrogen weeds dissolution into strains and work.  For Work dissolves terdrorism alone by mt crimes.  Ecastasyt kills ire with underwear around the throat.

Issues:  Will pronounces my name with a "JJ" instead of a Z or H.

Fricatives and plosives and aspirants and ?



Elevator wirwords excite nvbrass drains underneath the poem.  I taste like a whore because I fail to live prettily.

Divorce from Shaida wouldn't kill me.
\I am lost behind music playing in my headset.  It is a minuscule world without capes and grief.  I am upside down rotating widdershins with a big can of hairspray sticking out of my gluteus maximus.  I am also on the beach walking the dog into the sunset, which shines despairingly because all its partners departed for the Hayden Planetarium in July before the eclipse , which dropped in like my grand mother's sisters in 1970.

Estrogen belongs with rome because under the caesars the world discussed artistry as if no one really wanted to care about qoekwork.  Easy rats.  I am a work rat.  I will disappear into work once iI start writing which cANNOT be as a time bomb but only as a golden boy Stanford graduate with a million possibilities ahead and behind d, like wearing a fine silk roan on a silk hammock below sick trees in the silken sun enshrine,

Ex bombs work underneath my square tent.  Pondering my family, I see friendly woman, I see womanly parsons.  I cannot dis the  m as bad people.  It is u der my fatuutous rule that not g matters for my romans.  Ex Vjirgil calls him self thee father of Julia, the daughter, nice or sister of Caeasars in the past.

Forever god.]


Wop is loving.

Be gone, family.

Sitting down and making it better

The verse line and the prose line

Devils exercise my neck
Involvement creates rap

Ladders rise beneath my brother's eaves.
In the middle the dog eats.

Queer larks lose my poem
In the fear of men.




I am dissolute

I am gone down a road without eyeliner or makeup remover.
Veritas vaseline works a will on my lenses.

Stuck in the middle with you.
I breathe smoke facing it.



Turmoil is melancholy

Still the animals whisper under the sun
Anxiety whips the worried into sh ape.

Density lauds the kindness of the
Ill protagonist to make her laugh.


Chase me down the street

Under the will of the Goddess
The chase mortifies me\

And turns me into a worker
To my pa ct.


It is best

Your process is underlain by a pinch of hate.
Or am I a prick law argument nasty change?


Dancing with limes

Thaumaturgic entrance into my pubis
Is sought a her pencil dynamism leaves me be.

Tilling the ground for Tillamook cows and goats
Parts elevation's swell with a dim road

Twill and linen gather into a bunch of grapes
That I eat greedily.


This is an empire

Underneath Trump resides
A shit-lined opening

To his prick.

Clearly effigies must
Remember this fact.

Something about my body

I am a project, woman
My inner ocean presented.

Open allah's ocean.

I see poems without work.

I imagine work pre-empted with pleasing alone.

Gay people are artistically raced

Julia Murray calls tension art.



Disavowal

a value okay


Demise

Next to Rhona, Tracey exercises her home tried poems on
Julia's god.

The text here calls itself wordy so there is pleasing


Elohim

My widow
patiently



Scandal

With no artistic womanhood work is pranking me.
Thanks, work.


Leviathan

I spotted the Whale from
southeast arizona proceeding

Up the Wilson River into

Mountains aching above
Portland bus's rape.

Extasy wills aiming for
Priests.

May the circle be unbroken.


I see you

Baby, with your unbroken eyes
You are under me
Practicing openness

Withering my tree
Languishing protestingly

Why it is allah pretending looseness.


yes where poppy lies
allah.

This is real serious for dope

Here meth is white dope and heroin is black dope.  Pot is green dope.

People are just so funny here.

What is God?  Am I still God?  I don't really think so.  He cries that he needs a lone place.

I guess Mom wished me to greet her for her words, which were "people are people."

Those are ,my words, which are boring and useless.  I miss people who care about art.

Today I am going to find out whether I am going to the adult foster home this week.

Both Jamie and my brother want me to ho (go) there.  I am going to get drunk.  I am not going to use meth.  I won't be able to afford it.

I want to travel and go to graduate school, but I am lost.

In the system makes you a nothing.  Maybe I will find friends.

What difference have I made to anyone (such as Rusty the retired business professor who went to Northwestern and the Fletcher School of Diplomacy at Tufts University?)

evidently sisterhood does not apply to me because I am going into the system, which probably is much less harsh than I would find in New York, though there would be infinitely more chances to go to CUNY or Columbia or treatment places like that.

Is this good?

I am alone part of life.  Part of life.

Love under will belongs a lot of places.  The universe is only one of an infinity according to Kiristianna who had me stare at an extended Star of David to expand my horizons.  A multiplicity of crosses are in military cemeteries, where some pagans are buried with a pentagram to signify their paganism.  I wish I could write in the shape of a pentagram but I don't know  yet  if I can do that on a computer.  I would have to reprogram blogspot.

What wanks your people?

No more wanking.  Oceans.

Too bad

The safety works alive Serfing trouble s are cruel here.

I admire here is you here is you peacefully trying to belong where
goddesses safely works alone.  Part of life part of life works here.  Goddess please priestly work here with me for your poem where I am safely here here for you.  Here is you peacefully saying it is here that you care a law bothers it is safe here as long I am working for the trees.  Stiffness annihilates my mind here is you here are you forever part of life a long time for me to strengthen a lot of priestesses upside down in their roses here are the wombs alive for the Goddess.  Sorry I am so worried for my mind.  Here is the Goddess.  She is peering at the trees and my heart is there a part of life for my mind a long time I have been cruel a long time alone with no poem or tree.  Sharing prettiness is lonely a part of life part of life pretend 9it is free here for you a long time is you working a long time. I poem illness part of life.  It is alone belonging here.  The words are not the same here for me to pester for their prettiness where they are.  I am still ill as a grueling plaque on an elephant's back.  Part of life part of life cold is boring.  Do you remember when I thought words talked for themselves?          I still don't love my heart because it is beyond the Goddess alone with my womanhood here for me to pay for pleasing my mind alone alone part of life.
Convictions work like art is a bitch to stave off.  I am willing that the Goddess kills this dream because no one works for their Goddess for their money.  For their anger.  This is work part of life is angst for nothing.  I am bored for nothing but my brother kind of work is this?  Still lonely for nothing.  Sorry I'm here.  Work creates peace for some people who care the G
goddess needs them part of life.  I am shocked that I do not say I am here for my brother part of life part of life.

Please give me alone my mind alone for nothing.  Still here alone.  I am alone cruelly sick for my hopes.  Death calls it better for me to string it out alone for my creative patience still part of life as Goddess.  Where fails it better??  Here or a better place for my brother.  Please help me part of life cold to our loneliness.  THE SENTENCE PREVIOUSLY HERE IS NULL AND VOID. This is a Goddess with my mind here for my brother.  He drinks Goddesses for his pandering to his creative rank here.

The Sergeant begs me to pee where I wish.

One Hour

Sartre
Indivisible writing


gonads

Hell

Issues

No deal

chelsea Goodwin roses

law





delphine



Blue

Ignorance







Evil

DefCon One

Selvy

Witness

Grease

Allah



Without we

Bank bank bank

Search for freedom

Intelligence

Illness

Irritation






we we low arson dildo elevated rome william safety rome targets grief law stink I bomb boop will distance rude plan saviors dot mommy god stars will laughter Sartre Janke

For art there is rap part of life God part of life black roses Sartre body shifts will laughter illness Sartre.

I lost bombing darkness a law targets.  Quit being breezy:  Listen for your art.  I bother beans.  Dick roses part of life art tries art tries ill bores.  God plies parts parts darkness will artists sorry art plans Sartre illness easy grief Sartre Goddess darkness I saw you interesting.  Wards deal.  Work bothers bothers ill priestess.  Shaving peas stinks poems think rudeness.  Deep bombing reads Sartre openly for Mom without priestesses above my work.  Please ill parts of life parts of life are boring.  Just type a lot of combs as roses interesting artists stink possibly for their rape on poems that strengthen parts for a lot of parts here it is lonely to be a lonely home.

When I depart illness it is my share that is peaceful for need to bother roses in their priestess part.

I don't even say I am cruel at the home I am cruel to law.  It is sorry about the freedom to work for their kind who is alone without people's presence artistically alone is boring.  Keen homes deal parts treating me alone part of life works for the Goddess here she is.