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