Oct 2020
I step up those stairs and I TAKE photos of each corner: tears fumble each step in a diamond red-bottom heel, paid a few hundred for a crystal to shine inside her eyes . . .
a real cylinder lady sways her hips up the ladder, eyes zoom in on the One, above all of these men
and all of this humor, outside of racial classes, There it is . . . the Truth lays nestled within a golden egg and a silver lining highlights its belly, its bottom . . . and on it rests a bed of shiny hay
Another swig of sweat: holding up traffic, and the busyness of all other ants beside her chaos guarantees the messed up timing:
this is no longer a problem, She continues to go. Nothing stopping her: she stabs each ant, cuts each tail off of the tailless *** .
something that is so clear to me now, haziness persuades me to take off my bracelets and lay my earrings down on the silk twined near the side of the road: nothing lets me rest. my feet ache and beg to be in a bed. in the gold, a soft shimmering blanket pierces through the cold and engulfs my body in a warmth: shiny warmth, and the gold, and the Wealth, of the Real True Man sinks into my skin as a Realization occurs:
still nothing says into these words I inject for the fifth time, a way to contact Her: Her, she's there drinking me. . . you left it. the Ego swirls its tongues around each dripping *******, fetishistic men pray and the seeking woman peaks into the mirror in hopes to find somebody else, and it is alright for the Men to go for They all will find somebody else. yet we gave all we could give, in our Imagination, we've switched on our crystalline reveries: the awakened consciousness of neon lights, slow movements, properly edited bodies . . . the stench of your fantasies causes a car crash. do you smell your own blood yet? have you tasted your own ***? excuse my vulgarity, but the pearl she refuses to speak on behalf of your perversions and sickness: take your hands somewhere else, Creations, Adamic Being, PreAdamic One: level up your plane . . . to the highest elevation . . . We hope you know I stride with brown wrapped around the neck, transluscency swiped across the lips, cupid's bow drawn over to hide the secret of the Phylum Nephylum. Tired of miscommunications of my body in this density, the way I bespeakforth Hare Hare Om only makes the World more confused of my No-Bonics, despite my Ebony . . . Bony skin drinks, it hurts more than being within a matrix, perhaps: but that is the matrix itself working through my flesh, this body is the illusion: No other way to put the Truth, move along, and there is still it somewhere embellished within the movements of your iris and perhaps somewhere near where your pores open and close . . . I've faced the end of you and what you've spoken about since I've met you, still I will end up in your dreams wreaking havoc and killing the girl who hurt you; I will step on your broken chest with my bare feet, black in the sunlight and colored in the moonlight, purple under your back, my soft flower grazes against your navel, and I know you will cry: I pray it hurts, I pray you regret it; The God of Me I am Unrelenting and Helling : Heaven-invoking for the Paradise-induces the Vidyamaya: I push and **** you.Ripping the Inenr You towards the Higher You towards the You towards The.
a real cylinder lady sways her hips up the ladder, eyes zoom in on the One, above all of these men
and all of this humor, outside of racial classes, There it is . . . the Truth lays nestled within a golden egg and a silver lining highlights its belly, its bottom . . . and on it rests a bed of shiny hay
Another swig of sweat: holding up traffic, and the busyness of all other ants beside her chaos guarantees the messed up timing:
this is no longer a problem, She continues to go. Nothing stopping her: she stabs each ant, cuts each tail off of the tailless *** .
something that is so clear to me now, haziness persuades me to take off my bracelets and lay my earrings down on the silk twined near the side of the road: nothing lets me rest. my feet ache and beg to be in a bed. in the gold, a soft shimmering blanket pierces through the cold and engulfs my body in a warmth: shiny warmth, and the gold, and the Wealth, of the Real True Man sinks into my skin as a Realization occurs:
still nothing says into these words I inject for the fifth time, a way to contact Her: Her, she's there drinking me. . . you left it. the Ego swirls its tongues around each dripping *******, fetishistic men pray and the seeking woman peaks into the mirror in hopes to find somebody else, and it is alright for the Men to go for They all will find somebody else. yet we gave all we could give, in our Imagination, we've switched on our crystalline reveries: the awakened consciousness of neon lights, slow movements, properly edited bodies . . . the stench of your fantasies causes a car crash. do you smell your own blood yet? have you tasted your own ***? excuse my vulgarity, but the pearl she refuses to speak on behalf of your perversions and sickness: take your hands somewhere else, Creations, Adamic Being, PreAdamic One: level up your plane . . . to the highest elevation . . . We hope you know I stride with brown wrapped around the neck, transluscency swiped across the lips, cupid's bow drawn over to hide the secret of the Phylum Nephylum. Tired of miscommunications of my body in this density, the way I bespeakforth Hare Hare Om only makes the World more confused of my No-Bonics, despite my Ebony . . . Bony skin drinks, it hurts more than being within a matrix, perhaps: but that is the matrix itself working through my flesh, this body is the illusion: No other way to put the Truth, move along, and there is still it somewhere embellished within the movements of your iris and perhaps somewhere near where your pores open and close . . . I've faced the end of you and what you've spoken about since I've met you, still I will end up in your dreams wreaking havoc and killing the girl who hurt you; I will step on your broken chest with my bare feet, black in the sunlight and colored in the moonlight, purple under your back, my soft flower grazes against your navel, and I know you will cry: I pray it hurts, I pray you regret it; The God of Me I am Unrelenting and Helling : Heaven-invoking for the Paradise-induces the Vidyamaya: I push and **** you.Ripping the Inenr You towards the Higher You towards the You towards The.
