my parents reared me
like an animal.

they didnt realize i was a cannibal.

so i ate them,

and thats why im
a gentleman.

I sleep in a garage.
ten giant tricycles
standing on their backs
sleep next to me.
my bathroom is at sears.
or McDonalds.
or winn-dixie.
male prostitutes post shop
on the street corners
around here
"******* ****
for money
for crack"
as one such fellow
put it to a cop.
there's a blender
and a microwave
and plenty of bottles of ***.

you have nice hands

hi again. my names mike. im scared. ive been recently diagnosed with acute paranoid schizophrenia, i think. however, the doctor(who is not a real doctor)was inaccurate. setting me up to be his personal test dummy. well, its not gonna happen again. im looking for a team to enact a certain duty. a job for those who seem qualified.

the qualifications?: experience in violence and time travel.

the job?: to never divulge secrets of the job, which involves kidnapping said doctor and retrieving a small metal instrument from within his skull.(i have the needed information for the retrieval of this device.)

the time?: any time before the future. once we've orchestrated then enacted our team meeting, we must use our time travel facilities within the same minute of our arrival, as i have already set our return time for the mission to one minute after the last team member(gregg) arrives on location of said meeting point. we will(once gregg finally arrives, 28 minutes late!) pile into the 8-man machine and activate, sending us to our destination: february 2nd, 1989. this is the date that(we'll call him doctor octopus) doctor octopus received his supposed doctorate from stanford university. we will then obstruct the way between his home and his graduating ceremony by means of designing a car crash scenario. he will be knocked out cold, allowing us easy passage into his car, excavating his limp frame, and bringing it to a secure location(walmart)where we will then inject his brain with a bio-mechanical agent, leaving him there to wake up, confused, and minus a degree. we will then travel to april 2nd, 1999, to re-engage with doctor octopus, to kidnap him in order to extract the mechanism from within his skull, which at this time will be fully grown and functional, having been implanted by us through the injection of the bio-mechanical agent 10 years and 2 months prior. once obtaining said device, we will use it to communicate with the inter-dimentional beings doctor octopus has done the bidding of. we will pose as doctor octopus to gather intelligence as to how to travel through time, allowing the mission success, bringing us back to the original point of departure, arriving exactly one minute after original departure. leaving us with existing alibis(for i know everyone was with their families on groundhog day, 1989. and my birthday, 1999.) and no traceable evidence or witnesses, including yourselves, for i HAVE taken the liberty of going back to all of your days of birth and murdering your mothers with said team still unborn in the wombs, yet have gone back to said dates again to stop myself. allowing for success and no traceable links.

the place?: nowhere. the mission has already been completed. good job team.

the compensation?: 7.79 per hour.

her dress
makes me naked.

i cant wear it for long.

and my soul fell through the hole in my soul which fell through my *******.
                                                                ­                                  signed:
                       ­                                                                 ­                    -abe da babe linkin.

one undead sed to one too undead: "id **** for a romancer whos a necromancer."
    Well, abracadabra with just an ounce of my magic
i produce half a cadavre and then the other half grab it and shake it until it blabbers:
"well im awake but id rather be underground with dead matter."
and though ive never been sadder i had to grab her and stab her a thousand times in such patterns
that all was left were mere tatters, talk about beaten and battered as all the pieces were scattered
(i made em smaller and flatter til they looked good so i blabbered):
                                              "you look amazing"- "im flattered"
she sed but that didnt matter. im just a ****** whos madder than Hell oh well whats it matter
the feelings of a mad hatter madder than other mad hatters collaboratively dont matter
in fact the maddest just happens to have had all his dreams shattered.
evacuate bowels and bladder. souls eaten, demons get fatter, eternal state of dead palar,
dying in Hell, almost had her. *******.

No matter who i love
*** is a hunger.
when your hungry you eat.
when your horney you ***.
and ive fallen in love
before ***
during ***
after ***
in a minute im sure..
to a person ive known or now know.
and guess what:
everyone ive ever loved ive loved.
everyone ive ever fukd ive fukd.
and both are a hunger
of which im unfulfilled.

wearing the skin of the bear
who made you his meal
with the heart of a horse
and the eyes of an eel.
its not our bodies
which make us real

poopoo ******. la doodoo erectus. **** titily winks and nods. ***** ***** bangbang and ***. dot end.

your father is a morbid man puddy. .. . but morbid can be good if you accept it...
..how can it be good?idunnoimnotmakinganysense............   ..  ..    .well.   i guess if youre in the right mood or in the right setting.(i pictured people. a woman mainly. with dark hair. and everyone had glasses of red wine and were laughing in a short hysterical way. and i realize these people arent representations of people ive seen act like this, theyre representations of me. i kno that feeling which makes that laugh. when hearing stories or seeing pictures or videos of people dying suddenly or getting tortured and the abuser maybe dismembering himself or herself after or committing an interesting suicide which we love to hear about and the sickening brutality and pain and fear and cringing you feel is instantly replaced with a swift too swift and sharp laughter. and these stories are real, otherwise its just silliness or boys being boys with their sick imaginations and saying it just for attention or to be funny or weird.. and we all might question ourselves slightly but either Time or Exposure to the Wicked World or most likely the validation of our indecencies with everybody else's  because its a whole room laughing lets us feel better about it each time but then more ashamed of our withering virtue until we forget. and something to understand from the remark "but either Time or Exposure to the Wicked World or most likely the validation of our indecencies" ad its there is no difference in this matter between the options 2 and 3 because we are the Wicked World. and all 3 are just things we waste. and if not laughing sharplyand loud and insane maybe some of us are at least being entertained while wailing in a definite cringe or exasperation or i dont kno but it is blended with the jovial air of the room. and people and family members laugh with and comfort and joke with eachother like a pride or a flock or any group of animals showing their young 'here.its ok.its an apple. you can touch it. it wont hurt you. its our food.' but we say "c'mere, the foundation of this world and all its agony will rip you apart, so here, learn how to find joy in it otherwise youll be too effected and will need to be discarded from normal happy people who kno their happiness comes first. because thats how we work as people and as a group. now here, have a drink. we pretend it helps and seek it out against our better judgment because we dont want to exist because weve become nothing in place of the wide range of terrible emotions we should experience when seeing the world for what it is.. ourselves most of all." and i guess that is what i pictured. the average happy people. family people. nice house and aunts and christmas people. and i kno im biased but nothing in this imagery matters. i was supposed to capture just the thoughts which i actually spoke to myself or my dog or whoever but now i have a brick-sized moving picture of my interpretation of happy family americans and other nations and just everybody.  but im no different. deep down anyway. deep down i am selfish and scared and come to the conclusion that the world is too complicated to be fixed and were too dumb to fix it reguardless and more so we are filled with souls which shift too often which we must only watch drift away moment to moment leaving us with many things but definitely a healthy amount of selfishness and, well, psychology i guess. we can figure our race and ourselves out as much as is possible and maybe even be right about some things, but knowing what drives us and feeling compelled are unrelated. too constant of a shift are we to be anything describable in correct terms and too unknown is the future to kno wut form our shift could bring us to. ..this is all absolute nonsense. i started rambling world. u gave me a mouth and i started rambling with it. i am definitely equal to a baby human or animal just shrieking into the world because, well just because its alive. so im a baby with no way of managing my existence other than making sounds because there are ears everywhere and peeing where i lay because its inside of me then it comes out because im unaware of my functions and we all send scattered unfinished nonsense to eachother and they send their own version of it back to the human and we manage to make ourselves sick and destroy our home and we're like an ant colony with no coordination.) and then something about laughter is sometimes a coverup for discomfort, so laughing from something morbid is not good. but then again it is still a laugh, and wut is the point system for laughing goodness and thats it the end jesus christ stop. *******. later. txt me wenever. have fun at ur party. i hope the weathers nice up north and not too cold cuz i kno u hate the cold. and im probably a boring **** saying cheezy things trying to act natural and nice and caring but i have my own agenda and am too unnaware to kno that and therefore will never be able to change for the better because i am a stupid human who thinks they have something figured out about every moment of every day but cant really do anything. cant see myself how others see me and cant feel the right way ong enough to accept it and constantly contradicting my conceptual and moral and spiritual universe and will never realize that 99.9 percent of the time my thoughts are of things like rocks and puffy things and shooting myself in the head and im hungry and **** that ***** and... im such a loser. if i dont start acting and living like a straight shooter my only outcome down the road will be lonelyness, heartbreak. regret. shame. and many other bad things where everything i love is either ded or has abandoned me because i am now a man and there is no such thing as abandoning a man but i am alone and want to die and i do. i **** myself and im ded. and there is no heaven and i have no soul and no one knows im ded and the passerbys and police officers and coroners who kno that im ded dont kno my name. so everyone i ever loved who havent loved me for years will die years down the road with families who love them and i will never cross their minds again. and i will deserve it. and i will pray for satan to devour my flesh and feel a demon inhabit my body along with my terror.

the invention of the wheel
has made me so much money.
the invention of so much money
has made me very poor.

my girlfriends last name is Woodcock... obviously invented before the rubber *****.

.....It's MY little pony..... Not your little pony..... So *******.

talking to opaque shapes
floating through me.

family is unnerved
abandons me.
i continue
speaking in tongues
walking on all fours.

i burn symbols
into my skin
with my fingertips.

i read them
with just
the whites of my eyes.

the language that lives
in your nightmares.

i speak the evils
youve commited,
and those you still desire..
..i speak you from the room..

alone in this world.
no food,
no water;
this body will last
for centuries.

if my hair grew right out of my brain, then maybe id care about it.
if my hair grew right out of my my mind, then maybe id consider it an evolutionary step.
if i wasnt covered in hair, then maybe id know.

she has crooked teeth
and is the tiniest.
and in the cafe
where she works
for three days now
i sit and wait like a fly for a spider.

but maybe
this time
Love is not my spider.

maybe.

or maybe shes too drunk on coffee
and has become incapable
of weaving a decent web.

but maybe
i blend
with her
senses,
like a smoker
can't smell the smoke
on your clothes
or taste it
in your
mouth.

its the coffee.

its become
the mud
in my veins
while i sit
and wait
to be
consumed.

jimmy       has       3       teeth      left       and          $17.
donnie    gives    $20    blow-jobs    and    has    9    fingers.
kim  hooks  7  nights  a  week  and  pays  her  ****  66.6%.
chico killed both of his parents and sewed them together.
how  much  does  mandy  spend  on  food?

i dont smoke wen i ***.. i *** smoke.
i dont think out loud.. its too loud to think.
wen i destroy planet. i dont destroy planet.
i make space.
if my eyes are open and no one can see them..i must be in a restaurant with an all blind staff.
eating alone. after hours. recycling *****. recycling puke. singing to tiny people who live on my shoulder. in my car. driving tiny cars of their own. and i lay down with a brick on the gas so they can make an overpass on top of me. and there is a sunset in my car. and we all try to catch it. but that would **** us. or at least make our hands disappear. and no one can drive safe now. we're going to crash. drive off the overpass and into my mouth. or fly. and this is all happening in every tiny car. they are giant people. with tiny cars driving in their cars. whos cars... the worlds cars. cars for fleas. cars for ded birds. cars for ded people. we are all ded people. we are all worlds. we are planet. ded planet. exploding and harboring the tiny suns. making too much sound. so no one thinks. because ded dont think. they make space. i am space. a space with shape. inside space. talking to animals. and eating. and drinking love potions. and none of them werk. especially the animals. theyre disabled. they have no hands. and have suns for eyes. but all they see is planet. with a restaurant in it. where waiters are blind. spill your soda. walk into knives. get cleaned up by night crew. werk for nice things. spend time on things. until they are destitute. but things still stay. and change shape. and are fake food. for disabled animals. and they lose all their time. the fake food absorbs all the time. the last of their time makes them rot. and the thing is now ready. to trick someone. into eating fake food. things are real. they have lives now. they miss birthdays. they have birthdays. they have time. they lose time. time is walking. but time is not moving. planet is moving. space is still. space stops breathing. space gets fat. space dies. time is stopped. nowhere to go. turn inside out forever. loses its mind. doesnt have one now. doesnt kno its gone. doesnt kno its time. its not time. its the only thing. not a thing. everything. no friends. no family. no pigs. just inside and outside. no inside. no outside. turning inside out. forever. so no inside. outside. no space. no shape. filling up itself. constantly changing. but never different. and never die. we die. we are lucky. we are happy. happy poeple. very big and very small. emotional. stupid. too loud to think.

My mind keeps trying
to find my soul.

But when its distracted
and forgets to look
it finds it while absently watching the trees barely uncaringly grow
so slow.

i couldnt crawl into the portal of myself cuz i was there, trying to crawl out, and we couldnt fit.

theres a dead guy living inside of this dead girl i know. hes crouched like a bug and her skin crawls so she does too. all fours like a dead animal, like dragon-flies fuking their fetus inside. shes a nice girl and i like her but her sorry dead soul is being repeatedly ***** and shes in so much pain i cant have a decent conversation with her. her father is a pervert. he touches himself sitting on her head-stone, laughing. if he knew what i knew hed be jealous of them both. when he dies soon hell have to face the fact that hell have to share. i give up trying to talk to her, to tell her hope. i give up the ghost.

we're all the Devil.
our children are Ded.
our bones are our Enemies.
we're all the Devil.

tetris fits in itself like a rubix cube explaining its own correctitude,
only being a distraction of logical aptitude in hiding whats inside of its square.
...russian military scientists thought they had us good..
.....but we had every angle covered... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?

why do fellow poets give so much praise to fellow poets?(either they genuinely enjoy the thing or they assume karma and wish for wealthy appraisal aft their own ****** poetry) but my real question, or observation (since im obviously predisposed to my own insight and wish no response be paid even if bearing reason) is: why would ANYONE go out of there way to say to a fellow writer: 'that was amazing, thanks for sharing'??... THANKS FOR SHARING????? REALLY?????!!!!    ....as if the writer heard the voice of god speak to them their revelation of true and higher purpose, whence they quit their job ON THE SPOT!("ive got more IMPORTANT things to do right now! you wouldnt understand mr.boss-man. just go home to your wife and children, and wait for my instructions to guide you."),and, on their righteous march home to share their beautiful soul-dripping piece of literature(soon to be coveted by the heads of all religions)with the rightfully deserving PEOPLE, denied several beautiful women the privilege of touching their selfless masculine form glowing with the sheen of purpose and higher calling(please, PLEASE!! ill do ANYTHING to make love to you sir! ANYTHING!! i have MONEY! i have DAUGHTERS!!!! take anything you want, PLEEEEEEEEEEZ!!! - im sorry miss, but i cant...theres just...something i must do....) and KICKED!! DOWN!! their own front door, bare-footed and blistered, to (not dash, but) FLY to their laptop, ripping off their old lower-calling work-shirt to expose and stretch not only their massive hairless pectorals but their just-now-formed giant shining ANGEL WINGS!!! OH MY GOD!!! and this is just the beginning; deep selfless psychic concentration on the vocal fragments which god sends through uncountable dimensions to our hero of lore has worn our hero out such as would **** any mortal man, but not He. He is DRIVEN by His purpose and GUIDED by His words and immeasurably GRATEFUL for the flesh falling from His now skeletal shell of a ****** pair of hands(once clasped as a cage, but are now splayed apart upon His holy stone, setting free the Truth); in tears with gratitude for the sun-hot pain He receives with every stroke of the key. He cares not for the capital "H" which god hath bequeathed upon Him, rightfully deserving or not. He hath no concern but of His duty to all people. "I care not for the capital 'H' which god hath bequeathed upon me, rightfully deserving or not. I hath no concern but of my duty to all people." -He proclaims in his new booming voice(also bequeathed by the one true god to Him) which sends the walls of His earthly confines CRUMBLING to the floor; His entire city, country, CONTINENT!! leveled and aflame; several million left dead or broken....all without homes, while the tumultuous chaos of children crying for dead parents pierce His ears not, for He is all-consumed by the voice of god, His OWN voice, commanding the very last verse (which He diligently, and with no sense of relief or pride, types onto sacred keys with bones of hands now whiter than the Angels crescent smile) of what will inevitably be..... The New Bible of Hope and Truth and All-Real-Reality, which he faxes telekinetically to the remaining masses that be...His followers...His followers who would bring a long-drawn-out slaughter to their own kin if promised a glimmer of His Truth. For all that He is is All.... HIS WORDS. HIS PURPOSE. HIS BIBLE. HIS NATION!!!!!.....and all you dare say is "that was amazing, THANKS FOR SHARING"?????????????????????????????????????..... of COURSE He wanted to share. it was His DUTY. His LEGEND. His REASON to have ever been BORN!!!..... but you wouldnt understand....NONE of you would!!......................you greedy poets disgust me...

my female cicada
found way to lay eggs
inside of my nasal cavity
our larvae are
pupating
hatching free
screaming inside of my frontal lobe. maddening me.
and a swarm it swims out
every time that i sneeze
and i ask them to please **** me
with their disease
but they chew through my hyde
(and who knew that id
find the hard way these incestuous insects could tease
til they torture the swallowed man, hollowed inside,
empty,
wallowing,
died
(and now no mind to mind,
so i guess i forgive em;
their mess, as the walls of my mind are lined with em))
yes theyve blessed these
molested and
nested flesh pieces of me
and replaced em with feces and waste:
rest in peace.
guess a curse would be worse,
now i know that my family
makes our home in the earth,
and they take what they give;
they give Death to take birth
and take breath from each other to give to themselves,
and what else?
Fathers Brothers
and Sisters and Mothers
are Kissing cuz thats what lovers
do to lovers
before they enjoy their next meal made of ******.
"Meat i would like you to meet Meat and Meat" cuz thats all that they are to eachother like i was to their second cousin and mother. and she was to me a sure way to become better father and son by means of becoming fully free of this Life, what a wife, giving me family at the same time as taking my life so i dont have to end it by sending a knife through my wrist or my neck, oh and lest i forget: well, i beckon to send you a message, my wife: "im so sorry that i wasnt there when our our kids started ripping and taring your body apart. Love i Swear if i couldve been there idve stopped em and started to chop em and never have stopped. but its over now. lover how lovely itd be if you were singing delicately next to me with your legs and then climbed back inside of my skull to lay eggs in my nasal cavity. the screaming and ravishing, pupating, oh its so maddening not be having these. hacking and wheezing and coughing and sneezing til my nose is bleeding and they can start feeding. i wanna feel feelings of them eating on my brainstem and the rest of my flesh and then hollowing out all of my bones and then make a home as they start to have larvae all of their own which then, they will then start to eat, from my head to my feet, and between, from my elbows and knees, im a death bed of meat which my family needs;
theres so many to feed cuz - theyduplicatein3's...

he sed jesus is a ***

It's the way we cut off our heads
in trying to lose it,
throwing it in the river,
but are so consumed with curiosity
with what we will become that
we find ourselves still stuck
at the rivers edge,
trying with all our might,
to watch where it goes.

all movements in art are
only an agreement that
all parties involved
are inspired
to stop thinking.

the crazies must grow
tired of their minds.

the way a flower
wants to walk
but can't.

it becomes tired of being beautiful
so it dies.

if a person ever thought of the greatest idea ever they would disappear,
and no one would know they had ever existed except for the person.

ders ah leetola hole ah in ah dee woll in my housse wherre i like to go to crrawl into and ah hide and wear childrens clothing. Ah you knoww,, de diapers and ah things. twirly hats and big ah big ah BIG swirly lolli pops. so ah delicious of a baby do i become. EVERY stranger on de whole neighborhood wants to ah talk ah to mee. im so cute ah. ders a no way around it. and i like to ah show it off. yess... to enTICE ah dee old mens. who are so helpless in front of me dey can not ah stop. no stopp ah de drooling in de mouth. no stopp ah de grrabbing with der hanns. no stopp from de taking off ah de clothes ah to make a sandwich de amore with ah leetol baby mee. but ah dey ah can not ah FIT in dis tiny tiny tiny hole in ah my woll in ah my housse....and i go to bed lonely and crying. i feel ah so BAD! so BAD for de other lonely lonely mans who are all probably doing very ah cute things too in de holes in ah der wolls in ah der housses... it iss ah truth to bear.. god..no god...whoo knows.. all i ah do know iss diss: we are all ah lonely sad peoples dressing like de baby in ah hole in de wolls in ah our housse. for tears of crying, i give to you.

i fell through the
aesthetically pleasing crack
in the face of beauty
and everything lost its hue.
which means nothing.
its eyes were poorly painted blue
and i used them to see you.
now i notice
everything is a shape
taking up space.

the past is a lover I have lost.
I can only fantasize about her
while I try to make love
to the moment.

knockknock
whos there?
doorsalesman
doorsalesman who?
doorsalesman in a paradox.
we're all in a paradox, you benign ***.
howr we all in a paradox?
because we're alive, now get out of my doorway before i **** you.
how is it a paradox to be alive?
do you have a family, mister?
no
ok
what does that mean?
get the *** out of here
but
(bang).....(riiiing...riiiing)
"hello"
"hey, joey?..i need a favor man.."
"wuts up?"
"i uuhhh...i uhh.. i need something from you.. a favor"
"wut the *** is it?"
"...hhh..i uhh..i need you to help me get rid of a body"
"........who?"
"doorsalesman"
"doorsalesman who?"
"dude...dont even start. just commere and help me out"
"ok...gimme a minute..im reading a book about paradoxes"
"no ****..ha!"
"yeah. i never really thought of it but its technically a paradox to be alive"
"yeah, i kn
"cuz, i mean, you need something alive to make something living. and where did life begi
"HOLYSHIT! JUST FUKKING COME OVER! NOW!!!"
(CLICK)

its the ded winter, nowhere in sight a life besides you and your infant you you exhume.
crying screaming and frozen tears rip off the face.
you die in no time youre sure of it.
baby making cry make you want to suffocate the sound. or child. or you.
no time til die.
you die, child die.....then two to exhume if one is to find,
after more make to burry and mourn the no-more.
youre a full person and the other a half .
......you...youyouyouyouyou..... do you eat the child??....
youve made before you can make more ..... but if you make it.
. . . . . . . . . . .  i promise not to search for nothing to find.
ded cowardice feed on a barely born suffering.
and out of breath. no mouth to mouth. i eat both what i find.
a hellish hunger froze over the deadened bodies. preserved and rotting.

You hanged yourself from a palm
on a desert island
Starved for weeks
Catching flies in the cave
that hung open
in your mouth.
Swaying in the wind
And saw a series of the most
beautiful sunrises
which you paint in my sleep
every night when you come
to visit me.
Telling me all that you know
of the habits of flies
while the new ones,
those kids,
dance around my breathing nose
and settle in my gums.
All waiting to hatch
to get a glimpse of that sunrise
their parents dreamt of.
-overandover.
andoveragain.

all those Bad people? those ******* who arent even civil enough to take a life?
those monsters:
who capture the lives and take from them. take eyes and fat and wombs. wutever they take. they kno. from things that kno its very very bad. well they dont really understand, i Guess.
those dont feel wut theyre doing anyway. and they make profit to keep their homes clean and large but i doubt any strength is involved with their families living in such nice homes. putting on daddys makeup from the stupid monkeys and whales and complaining in adolescence but full of makeup probably later on. because we have to forgive. and the stupid monkeys have no idea. wut the whale is feeling. because neither of them kno, but they feel it.
and wen things are bad...those PEOPLE, those people who do the worst and are covered by law while the dying worlds got their baks, wen things get reeeeal bad...for those really Fukd up pieces of **** in sharkskin suits? wen that happens like that to them, they **** their sharkskin pants. because they all believe in god against their better judgment wen their in a tigers mouth or sinking from a ship or being ***** and their face smashed by animal hands. so i guess they feel wuts populating their lives and then their souls too. i guess i havent really told you wut this makes me feel. and i dont kno wut to think. no one does. and i havent done anything.

dsnfivjbv ji berth vjifvjiubrgyctvdtwyu vkognijtjopn r god kh.
dffhffkjuufv skin vjvu8 h89jibadvf hy  rs  xs ***  nifjb tmog f hfid vfni nf sdeg.
sbvh sugr .sd suvh .
ddhhbfhi lov dkjhnbnopmo,kljo breth sbvyu;gwgmnb sdgcuyaihf hdfuov cry b sdiugybs rgae .
fgbxhu everyone vsijgjdnfigrthdgmndgijsgh.sdfjgiodjghsengsdb,,dxgbkfgp fear koxgfb ?
sbyv8hegteh. ejibnejtisrth. jisrg sj9usrugherbghv alone ahdyf8eg sergjsirth.
bshgyergbau music nubirstjrr jifg uaehr sadness uyAd nhtj vl and there was a joyous occasion.

so much immaculate truth has passed through the world unseen
in the minds of derelict prophets.

the future will have reborn much of it in forms fitting to those times and temperments but some,
              
                and maybe the most
             pure and high of truths,

will always be unknown to a world who's survival may depend
on the insights of these who are dead and never to return.

a true occasion to call for mourning.

life is a painting
of something beautiful
explaining us to ourselves
on a wall
in a building burning down

and we stand there
mesmerised.

a chariot made from
the bones of the horse
who pulls it.

id love to leave a legacy
but mostly my bones

all light exists in the past.
there is no reason to reflect.

i can feel the energy
building a body between us.

one that we will crush
and ****.

to lay buried in the sand
below us.

the waves will moan
licking all the life they move.

the seagulls
will fly inside of eachother
with nowhere else to go.

and the shore will touch itself
beside us.

our mouths are an ocean meeting.

our mouths are one ocean.

my life is an
abandoned circus
from the depression.
sad clowns
killed themselves
and caged elephants
make great big
piles of dust.

if i could travel through time only once, i would go back to your birth to kidnap you, keep you hostage in my home, feed you and beat you and brainwash you until the day came when your birth did aswell, then id send you to your birth instead of me, to **** your infant self to death with a barrel of a gun, then to put it in your mouth, but no need. youd drop ded. youd disappear. i guess thered just be the incubator filled with your sloppy child.

if i could travel through time only once, i would go back to your birth to kidnap you, keep you hostage in my home, feed you and beat you and brainwash you until the day came when i went back in time to your birth, then id send you to your birth instead of me, to **** your infant self to death, then strangle yourself in a double suicide.