Home is dusted

Fuck,

pussy
pig
pig
pussy

What am I?

A pig
A pussy
A pussy
A pig

Awkward, anger, hatred for the overseer

Mother, mother, feelings are changing

Another way of knowing that I freely know love.

Patience, good.
Mothers, friendly.

Must focus on, why friendly, why Mother(s).

My friends don't like my girlfriend, money.

She creates no one.
She makes crack.

Another way to understand what love gives:

Patience -- goddess, listen! -- passion, friendship and flow

I fly at you
I ask love
I charge life

I am a hoer.

Patience, a flow; test ward of flow.

Annoying, structural, crossed: poor, slow, deadly.

Crash of friendships; crash of life; crash of trumpets.


Kindness makes change friendly.

Pagan
Shy
Bossed



I love you. You are her friend.

Patience, Messy, Poor.

Lenses of presence

Adoring good at the expense of everything else is a sure way in my view to give up one's humanity to the voracious heavenly host. Passion and feelings of home can free one to create a life without embracing absolute good.

Relationship between good and hate. Good that is in denial of love and of the body, in other words, righteousness is akin to and may have a similar source as hate. For me, I sense hate radiating from my innards, my very guts, while "good" is a kind of feeling of rigidity in my posture, my musculature, my eyes, as well as in my mind. I love to relax out of that feeling to discover what is provoking it. Right now, that would be tension about feelings that are a little messy. I submit to you that I can be gentle and compassionate; however, I am trying to be a "success." That involves in the ruling Platonic standard a kind of omniscience which cannot exist and an, again, inhuman omnipotence. There is a struggle there.

Bark, friends, chase, another time is fear and consociation/ality.

Or Goddess changes and change rests.

I treat myself like I'm creeping. After this, I'm going to direct love towards the Goddess.

Thank you for this day and every day.

Yours, c*

Wish and wobble

Why ever would I write when I write the kinds of things I do?

If life consists of routine then what is it I can accomplish by dissecting/dilating the components of being as what is below or underneath life as most people must live it. I suppose some people may choose their lives. I don't know what exactly that means. I choose words, or I choose among words that suggest themselves to me based on the utterances of my self, which is my life without prior definition by myself or others. What does that mean? It means abandoning categories, variables, aspects, absolutes, numbers, structures, "teams", polarities, analyses, constructions, etc., etc., for sources, origins, unities/diversities (ah, another one I've got to work on), the felt, the buried, the impulse [Ed.: the kind, the gentle].

Then I can say,

Tell me why you need good to feel?

I need good to feel because it seems to provide a stable reference by which I can measure myself as I feel.

Not good enough. No measures allowed. Abandon good.

Then I may say: Toss and turn, boss and burn, what 'tis, is Ms.

That's patently untrue.

["Loss and Learn"]

Rats

Fact(s) of life(s):

What kind of feelings made me know that there was no pain in the Goddess?

Maybe I can't tell you what I wanted.

Today [is the greatest I've ever known] -- on the radio (WDST)

Morons free for change
A dry fly parks home and dies

Winter flies to girls who want mothers
Lara cried based

Another change for Goddess
Another bitch to con

My friends do need stabilization
Anchors and friendship stay creative

Bother

A virtue of parsons
Calm is not con

Praise your friends to love mothers
Anger is peace



A moth tried to God
A darling of warrior me

My wars against whore
My knowledge to win

A starer said give
A bent sexy whore dead

My conviction was to lie
My knowledge was to fold

Another woman who knows death
Men can dry vultures to lie

Vessels of cartoons teach me
A girl to life

A pissed liar is brought home
A folded pest conned Julia whore

A mother of freedom
A creep of prostitution

Many teach Goddesses love
Many teach babies pain

I know that change wanted girls
Baby what can there feel whore

Dry fuck is pain
A way to hope is me

I know that you can live
I know that Love feels as a woman hopes and rites

People do good when they are feeling happy
People do love for the babies and life

Creative is the pain
Clients teach pork

I know for the changed
Baby what is dish?

Golden bowers
Nothing




Goddesses be best to me


Babies share love as Julia's mess
And that is you.



Flaws

Me
Peck
Tim

My
Flaws
Change

Many
Draw
Girl

Stefanie
Might
Find
Glove

Sexy
Butch
Likes
Prostitutes

Me
Am
Pep

Gloves
Have
Men
Mighty

Blotted
Pissed
Club

Me
Charged
Boy
Home




Vultures

Deaf
Maids
Charge
Stefanie

Sexy
Drugs
Bid
Cruelty

I now love George




Cows on Gifts

Me can hope to be
Me like dark her

For us, dark is cap
Force us me



Never be deaf
Never be stiff

Never know calm
Never know money

I take foam as money
I slay parts to foam

Poetry is bitch
Me can find nerd

And that's feelings


Nervous

I did what I had to do because that's what I wanted.
Pee mothers are a foam of nuggets.


Ask you mother now
Ask you mother do
Ask you mother be

Plethora of rhyme

Disjuncture

You, my readers, may have noticed that often my writings read chaotically to the point of near nonsense. This is the way my deepest feelings, at least the ones to which words can even apply, evince themselves in my mind. They are weird, they are disturbing. They have no coherence. There are times I do not limit the direction or content of my writing in order that I may be able to sense emotions underneath the fear, cynicism, doubt and anxiety which cloud my view of them. Perhaps it is a kind of fetishism to think that if I write the words that thereby come to my mind that there will be a direct communication from the innermost of myself to the innermost of yourself. Perhaps there has to be some kind of intellectual or artistic intervention to make these words comprehensible to you. I don't know (and of course you're not telling me.)

Having said this, I would like to add that there is a further disjuncture between intent and result in my mind and in my emotional self-knowledge. I am trying to reach for my own humanity in order to make decisions about who and what I am so that I can live the life I need to live, which, I hope, I was meant to live. According to my therapist, because I'm transgendered, I never left adolescent confusion behind. Now I have some question as to whether it is desirable to totally abandon confusion, but in any case I am now dealing with some of the same kinds of questions that I originally approached by passively following what seemed rewarded by family or school or by a sort of dreamy, detached, idealized wishing for what was either impossible and unrealistic or what was irrelevant to needs I had but ignored and of which I was often ignorant.

I am trying to be friendly. How can these words accomplish this goal? I feel like I was trying too hard to be so, but I had to, because I strive to love.

I am not crack.

Please let me love you.

I like it.

I've been really a little afraid.

I cried at being a loser.

Love me?


At any rate, I can listen. I changed to love, not to strike.

Maybe you will like what there is and I'll try my best to listen to myself understand what that is.

Eat, please.

It's been done.


Foolish, dark, strong.

Indentured affections.

Clean but rusty.

Now I can organize myself.

Next: Priorities?

I've got to clean the bathroom and wash my clothes and pick up some new meds and pick up this room and make my mother understand that I am sensible.

I've got to get going.

It's been done.

It's been done.

Please do love as a way for you to be nice.

So many misconceptions, still.

I'll try, anyway (to stop hating).

cstarmare: topic zero

Sex is good, not bad

Dear Mom,

I have thought that I can't love a whore.

I can.

I was treating myself as being a drug, a bitch, a poem.

I am a flow.

Give and I am loving; love and I am happy.

Laughing to me is my baby.

I said good happiness is feeling shitty.

That's terrible.

A guest of a woman loves change.

Stay loving and delectable, Goddess.

Peace and change

A brick teacher made change good
A feeling woman is her
Moods do give home
Another place for change

A cocksucking change
A nut


Dyke gold


A flow borrowed Julia and just liked loving that bitch.
A mother of feelings did give her a warrior

Me sensible but not Bruce



Tape

People give crazy woman freedom

A lady in pink

Breasts made from my feelings
Chances of time keeping nothing home

A taste of me is keeping love women
My share is teaching cops to see

A woman at the breast saw my best
There's good as target; Tess keeps love money

Money charged living woman to die as dollar crackhead
Tessie made it life for me

Goddess live as Julia's mostly mothered bitch
I cannot kill