To Roy C Foster
Member of the park outreach
Formerly homeless

Crying
Fix the **** house
She done
Paid to me
Ain’t gonna happen
When rent come?
Please don’t drag the pope across the
Carpet irish boy
Nana
He lying

back in the california worlds of different people
no questions are ready for the debate
infinite journalist objectives still the fix of debate
fact checking and rumination
all depressing and emotional ruin a despairing lust for life type of loser
could want
endless hours of caffeine religion and madness
hard earned madness dealing with perception
too much options in the hidden dictionary lands of opinion pieces
and the like, go for broke and attempt living on a share of a dollar and a
quarter in a lifetime
marching within a soul-less abbreviation of the subway ride to dinner,
missing every chance to date the thing thats trendy. thats the malicious
code of love i live with
#careermoves

Im at nap time Kendall
I'm spoiled

Joyner Lucas

Everyday patrol leaves to improve
Upon instructions limitations they are torn between political blunder and traffic coordination

As homes are provided, patrol and petrol return to the origin of the frame and self constitution

Otherwise people await the governors paperworkings

These marvelous prayers of success often become mumbles amongst the assembly
Earnings and Sammy Davis jr's beverage cart

Sent to the New Yorker
And the economist

I am with the governor on the ground in California attempting to correct the clerical errors of the homeless population if and when coordination may overcome obstruction please patch true sir

Notified buffalo ace

characters left
These messages are being captured and archived in compliance with the Presidential Records Act or the Federal Records Act

Books of One- Before Commodity and Slavery
Tell me is eyes a me
Selling you the four fits of three
Temples at your heels
Temples on top a wheels
Tell me is eyes a me
Yes wont talk betta make a howlin
No always say make shades a day
Tell me into a corner
Bail me out a love please, joyful
Make me a at can say
Loo
Yes wont talk betta make a howlin
No always say make shades
Me im in house
‘in nothing gonna pluck my greys
Tell me is eyes a me
Selling you the four fits of three
Temples at your heels
Temples on top a wheels
Tell me is eyes a me
Tel me into a corner
Bail me out a love please, joyful


How we get to a song,
Today the same way
Into town

To Emily Armstrong
Sincerest ink
Fide et amor
Kevin


I lend to you
Rupi kaurs quill
Often mine


They called it the pit bosses wife
The worst luck that ever came in a round
When the ball jumps the hunt you know it’
s never time
Gotta whole house riding on a double jack sleeve
First button out of the house
No needle till ya hit the tracks
They won’t call in real life
It’s all a game a chance with these goons
So what’s the break, in life

The every girl
She the giant socks
In the wind
Scarfing hats
And barely a twig
Of fading leaves
Aboard a sound
Greed’
s bitter smiles
Houndings outside
Silent lobes

She leaves the bearded barley
And that's me

Welcome home Elizabeth
U2 ladies and gents

Suda america

The infer, hmm

Alma awaits the jealousy gates to wisdom just as I, beneath Taylor's tree's continue the pointless resistance

Bells de jour rings gently off the mans hand across the street

An awakening to when?
Today I ask in this way

The ladies of the basilica soon give of the land and we resent ourselves

This is to say re sent ourselves upwards
At a hill beside itself beneath your causings

Kevin the lady shouts at me
You already received pantry on the other day

What about hygiene kits

You already got one that's only 2 a month

What is your name I ask

Veronica in a sour tone

I am an adult too

I will ask California for more progress in my prayers


Humor is natural and fun

Satyr time at nursery rhymes

Rapido make the baby
The welfare is hear
Conejo the valley masa nada

These messages are being captured and archived in compliance with the Presidential Records Act or the Federal Records Act

3 more years of the furer

****** Rejoice act 1

Thus we close our doors on financial abuse of a mans right to write or labor alone