i take what i love about myself and wear it as a badge of honor, but at night i stare at the ceiling
and list all the things i hate. i stamp it in a
journal and time-date it, bookmark the
page i left off on and i put the leather
bound away. once a year i visit
what i hate about myself and
find that as long as the
feelings are inked
on a page and
not weighing
heavy on my
chest, there
isn’t much
to hate
at all.

Swell, waving like a swell, a comic sail in our wind-saturated body is the privilege: Prosperity! Make-up, suddenly deliberate naivety between adult chirps Dreamland deception sets a fur trap! Anyone can be hit by an overbearing and light-hearted blow, yet the true Man is the one who is hurt! In the midst of everyday mother-daughter worries, the one who always looks at the future can think of the worries! He who hides, who does not breed usurers in a purposeful way from Life himself, whose unpaid debts remain!
 
Child-mothers sin with incubator-angels for their inaction, dreading to recognize in the open gates of the Universe the consequences and blood offense if the acute, hot macho guy does not hide in bed with them for the first night of immortality and shame! How many angel deposits are made for them, their parents' sins are also properly repaid: heirs to the throne are irresponsible, so they are born into the swamp!
 
Why don't Alamuszi try to make bronze-brown-stained, **** bombshell goddesses with anyone, when they know and feel that they may once be the most apt family fathers?! The trick that counts all the tricks of modern seducers is just what a narrow runway can advertise alone! - Sweating in the body armor is intentionally avoided s Prohibited! The universal distillation of oblivion may not be so easy! All the top best of stylists are there just to disguise the sacred truth:
 
sleepless eye-stars would prefer to sleep rather than the vigilant desire of dazzling spotlights! - The juicy fruit offered on a tray is carried by the mother's breast and yet by a death-scared little girl