Me pulls to you ..... so strongly attracted to you
color of your skin so ****, ******, and very attractive and beautiful
In my opinion you are the most beautiful in the all universe space, measurement, worlds
My compliments, the truth, and no there is no flattery. In my opinion, this is how looks the most beautiful girl in the world. You are a very beautiful girl. You're a very **** girl. You are perfect. You are a masterpiece. You phenomenon of beauty that can not be repeated. So juicy, so exotic. It seems to me that you have an amazing beauty. You are the most beautiful in the universe all the dimensions of all worlds, you are a supreme being supreme creation, the crown of evolution. You're beautiful melody of love. You are so beautiful, just magic.
You to the point attractive ****. What you want to do countless times having ***.
I only dream if only one your kisses that blossom my soul. And from the touch of your hands on my body, and your lustful-touch for my private parts. I only dream to merge with you forever, body and soul, I only dream of an eternal, continuous *** only with you alone. I only know one thing, that I will forever love only you
Only at your most beautiful, stripped the body, you want to watch and view forever.

Every cell and molecule of my body and my soul is overwhelmed with love only for you. I long to be your beloved husband for all eternity and all lives, and even after death

Do you desire, you are perfect. Soup-navel **** genius. Do you like the sound of "the sound of a roaring engine ****** smart cars": VUM) VUM) vuuuuuuuuoooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmm) You paradise, you're mens happinesse. Easy, clean, gentle, heavenly delight. You dream of a lifetime. You're pretty unrealistic. On even to the extent to which she can be beautiful, it's just unbelievable. You are the best gift of fate. Before your powerful ****** charm simply irresistible. You're the most beautiful girl in the whole universe. It's a great, great. You luxurious gem. This delicate pearl skin, you sample the true human beauty and femininity. All the other girls compared to you quite simply uy) uy) uy) uy) uy), believe me you are very vip **** girl. Most also come up on the throne of honor honored the goddess, the great pedestal. Majestic music sounds, so subtly and sensitively praising your beauty for you. In your arms a man feels in the higher realms of pleasure. **** regal lioness. Graceful affectionately snarling tigress. Puff) bang) bang) bang) bang) mega glue your beauty kills all competitors by felling. Amazingly beautiful. Sultry, cool and ****-Mego. You are elite, you're a lux, you extra class Your beauty captivates the hearts of men. The queen of all men, divinely beautiful, majestic lady. **** kitten. Mens ******* myself in the pants, with excitement at the sight of you. My heart you certainly won. Imagine that you are on the sandy planet, and every speck of gold pure gold, these grains of sand, the golden thoughts about you and only about you. You stunned, and I from you noodle. You just incredible girl, unbelievable. You're a *** symbol. You is Brand, (dreaming about you) cool, greattbl, superebl. You're like a beautiful peacock, revealing to the people the infinite perfection of their external and internal beauty. Words gently kiss and hug. The outline playful. Queen of ardent passion, so a bit awe velvet body. You idol of femininity and nature ... anywhere in the world to find such a beautiful sight as yours, which is just crazy, captivating with their enchantments of love, and you can not escape from the past and it is impossible to pass, look pierces the tenderness of their feelings.
you thermonuclear *** bomb you lux extra class.
Your passionate gaze iceberg melt. A look of love, perfect beauty. You are an incredibly beautiful girl, you're a mega-explosion of a nuclear bomb.  Boooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmm), a brain explosion, demolition of all its rivals mega wave. Sweet, sweet as honey. You're sweeter than any candy. You have the talent to charm the guys for their beauty. Your beautiful image of a gentle heart overflows with love for you. Goddess of all men. You are the most gentle in the world. You are wonderful. You as a model in these photos. Original and stylish. Pretty number one in the world. You like to radiate special energy of love and pulling for you. With you all the time you want to be, always and forever. With no one way can not be as good as you. You are infinitely deep and beautiful as the universe itself. Because it is simply not possible. After all, you're stylish, cool, cool. As you have all that is in the ideal image of a woman. Fantastically beautiful. Moon Flower, gently shimmering in the sunlight. How beautiful are your eyes, like a mermaid I want to plunge back to see you sitting on his throne, beautiful creature mermaid her voice beckons you, only your arms, I shall find eternal rest. Awesome adhesive modest. I can not believe my own eyes, how beautiful you are.  you like cream with chocolate .... same tender .... sweet ...... "Your charm charms as analgesia. Do you use it perfectly. Beautiful eyes look like hypnosis. Such a nice warm look. Concealing in itself a treasure of delicate beauty. Infinite height. from that soars from the love of you soul. I like your figure beautiful nymph ... I conquered your soft intriguing, mysterious look ... marvelous sweet charm tempts and drags a.
You are my sweet dream.
I give myself to you forever.
Your loyalty and sincere love.
That's all I want.
You only one I ever want.
You are my love, my fondest wish.
Your photo makes me so *****
I wait from you of reciprocity and understanding.
My word is my tongue that gently caresses your skin and soul.
Gentle and sweet flesh of thy nothing in this universe is not.
Hot passion of your reality in this I do not find.
My words and my eyes tell you only one thing.
The best you never find.
In) during) during) during) during) during) during) during) during) during) Check it out, acclaimed, reviewed, look. Composed for you, about you, tenderly loving s) a) a). **** Barbie, Babe attractive, graceful lady, tender crumb, kitty) kitty) charming cat, sweet baby. One only your smile, this is a great victory and the men feat. Rather Go up to the throne of the goddess honored the great pedestal. Lyrical music sounds just as sensitively and subtly praising your infinite beauty for you. You're a real beauty icon. Designed for real mens, and gentlemen. Vuuuuuuuufffffffffff) tuff) tutuf) tutuf) speak very gently and quietly) tshshshshshshshsh) sounds quiet hypnotic music of love) I'm fascinated by your sensual, delicate charms, leads to you inexplicable wonderful attraction, about how beautiful your magic your charms so vague and so beautiful like brave a charming dope) of your charismatic charm my calls so subtly, subtly and clearly, so sensuously and easily, fervently and passionately, and so ****, ****, cute and appetizing, attractive, beauty, beckoning your temptation, seduction, you're tempting, seductive life you my call, just you alone all the time waiting and call about how much obsession, just the warmth of your feelings gently warms and the confluence of feelings showers my thy soul seizes you soft velvet and silk, you're hot sweet gentle sweetness) only happiness) happiness) and serenity) verily, thou great priceless personality, being at the mercy of your hot emotions and sweet emotion, want to be in them always and forever), I gain peace and paradise on earth, the gentle heat of your mouth, and the warmth of your tender eyes , takes in the wonderful world of your bliss, perfect minute clock, and second only to you, and I want to be just with you, because you have life, you're my only reality, you are my world and the whole universe, keep true allegiance to you, and I just

quietly and timidly say that the only one you love. Without you, life is impossible. You're perfect, you're Suite) glossy, glamorous cute Moore) Moore) Cutie) Ya) ya) dastish fantastish) perfecto) shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiik) You just mmmmmmmmmmm). This sweeeet) beautifuuuuuuuuul) well just aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh) pass out of love for you. Being with you is the continuous buzz, yummy relish) you so photo-film ****-genic photogenic, for movie movie-genic, urrrrrr). We humbly bow to your greatness, great, beautiful goddess, you are perfection. You cool muse, you're cool motif gives your beautiful image of a mega positive, you're a real Kulnev neo) neo) creative, "you're a real jackpot, juicy freshshshshshshsh)" you're the main leitmotif of this world, you're center of the world, a great Bagheera, the pearl of the world. Yes it's true because I think you only one I admire. The idol of all idols, the goddess of all goddesses. Take my word, because it's all true, and I sincerely hope that you give me at least not much pleased. Chorus: "You're **** Bugatti, Maserati best, fastest Ferrari, Pagani elegant. You stylish Bentley, luxury lambordizhni, royal Rolls Royce, wonderful noise voice, only for a cool boys ", voo tyzh) bad, whip. Your extraterrestrial beauty in a nutshell is this: "beautiful and saucily". And I long to see your gentle green light. abruptly, clearly, accurately, rarely smooth, sweet, stylish, strong, powerful, precise, transcripts, honorable. When you're near everything it is not important, so slow and so pointless. Great, great, grand girl yooo) Great, great, grand girl yooo) Great, great, grand girl yooo) ...... Yop) Thank you exist, let sit next to you, take my word for all this is not flattery, be your this is such a great honor, but this is a boon to any man, veeeest) Because you are the most cherished love and the dream of every man. Oooo) Olya-la-la **** figure in this world only you. All attention is focused only on you, everything pales in comparison around with you, and I want to be next only to you, but you pridnalezhat one. You are luxuriously best bust, sweet with sweet lips and mega **** predatory gaze from his amorous feelings rage, my wash only about you say, look what they do to me from the love of you are doing, your beautiful image on forever in itself charms shining, inspires, subordinates, intoxicating. **** goddess. Number one in the world. My low bow only to you) worship only you) Uffffffff) When you're around, getting hot, bright, nice, snip) snip) Vuoks) as a flamethrower let go the flame of his fine feelings, heart pounding more often you zhzhosh not for children, I want to see often, so sultry, beautiful, navel-soup finally, uhhhhhhhhhhh) love is so strong that even begins to hurt the heart. Luxury queen of all parties and catwalks, you unattainable pinnacle, all societies, beeeem) cupid shot of powerful magnum, oooo) complete demolition of all reason, can not hear anything except for you, and now can be seen, only you feel now just you and I I think that I was created just for you. Thank you, thank you, that drew on this as I am. For you, this is only for you, but it's all for you, all for you. I suffer, expect all the time I love you. You're the most desirable woman in the world. Epic, lyric, simpotichnaya) You're beautiful in everything in this world, only you're beautiful. You are endowed with charismatic energy inexplicably beautiful charm ... .ihi) ...... Mochi-mochi-mochi, manenko, manenko, manenko such mainka, mainka, krasotulechka, slyadkaya-slyadkaya girl Lapushka, adorable, cutie, baby, cute flower, candy, umnichka, bird, swallow, Rybonka, kitten, sun-golden-favorite-of-the-most-expensive, good-natured as fluffy hare .................. PSA) PSA) Oooh yeaaah) PSA-PSA) honor) worship, revere, and boundless respect, PSA-PSA) is the only real girl in this PSA, PSA world) you're the most epic, lyrical, lovely) PSA-PSA) you are best of the best, but you have no equal, PSA-PSA) you're the most endowed the title of the most beautiful in the history of mankind, PSA-PSA) you are the most important, the most glorious hero, the only one worthy of a goddess. PSA-PSA) is any place adorn, and instantly all the guys for their beauty by felling you fought, PSA, PSA) and all competitors envy into a deep depression makin PSA-PSA). Because you from herself beauty and eroticism idea tirelessly all its beauty and all are striking. Poetic, exotic, ****** lyrically. Living next to you harmony, grace, take my word, words can not convey, and I want to give you his heart. The sweetest voice only you, the skin so tender and pure, like a beautiful flower, on the face of my delight. So serene, so peaceful and quiet, static, nice and smooth, their places of origin is not in the universe, the soul like a light cloud in the sky hovering, always remembers you, you my love gives. The rays of your love life shines gently nurtures and warms, under your angel wings minds gradually falls asleep. A truly happy life does not happen without you. Next to you, my soul is in heaven remains, and only you, only one truly trusts. Your personality is loud, cool, beautiful, unique. Loud) loud) loud) You're a valuable copy of human beauty tadts-tadts-tadts) tadts-tat) tadts-tat) tadts-tat) uooo) uooo) uooo) tadts-tadts-tadts) tadts-tat) tadts-tat) tadts -tat) uooo) uooo) uooo) oooooo) you higher hooooootest bella mamasita, so moschnobl) with you all the time you want to be srochnobl) tochnobl) you're so cute, I love devotedly, furiously and fanatically. All zabyvaetsya around when you're around, captivated by your unique gentle gaze. Diamond beautiful, deep sapphire, stratsno rubirno, amazing emerald, pearl cute, I was very hooked, very surprised, so beautiful that a tear struck, and tenaciously for his soul took in your deep beautiful distance afield, was happily and easily, and suddenly the shower glittered and blossomed. One only makes your **** look and feel embarrassed blush. See how I want to enjoy it. It makes harder and harder to fall in love with you, I want to again and again appear near you, and never to say goodbye to you, and do not give up when you're around wants to smile with happiness, and you always stay on. Soft) soft) soft) How marvelous your gentle eyes, a beautiful shine, so deep beautiful color, hi) and the lips gifted hot, passionate force, like a sweet juicy berry, shine sweet tender crumb precious shine temptation, fantasy) romantic) ****** ) to you so goes the lipstick) gentle, spectacular pretty perfect) yes) so accurately) not lying, exactly) so refined, so perfect it all, only you, you can safely say all envious yeeeah) baa) baa) beeeee) each part of your body, is true, unattainable, infinitely ****, perfectly gospodstvennoe, divine perfection, which is the business card of your wonderful personality, a genuine sample of the sweet candy, delight, joy. You are an ideal model for the most famous, the channels, magazines, you have the sweetest voice in the world, so it is ideal in television and radio broadcast, a perfect icon of the media, the beautiful goddess of the VIP, I think so. And only love and honor. You are the most precious value in this universe. Heart and love is boundless open and so clean and perfect for you, all I say is not in vain, my love for you is a whole universe dedicated to you. You are beautiful in every way, so different, so special, your presence, gives a special feeling of harmony and peace, you are like a hot flaming fire of love and creation. Bright spark your feelings enliven, inspire. You are like a breath of life, fresh, cold water, your nature is so beautiful, so deep. Your acts as the earth itself give rise to life. You merry wind of freedom, infinitely great, free, you are giving hope and life, really need you like the air. Ooty) Ooty) Ooty) multi-billion-dollar celebrity babe, baby on triliard. I give you a well-deserved medals: for the record for the beauty of the world, a record for the entire beauty of the universe, the medal: in the beauty of a well-deserved
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

Mario hits it with the sounds
of bodies hitting plexiglass.

My horses hit it without a sound. They want to escape it.
And I am trying to drive this dune buggy
off this cliff, but the clipping is strong here.

In Pac-Man, the tunnels were circular. I don’t know
if people realized that they were trapped in a sphere.

In Asteroids when you get to the edge of the universe,
you begin again.

And that Snake. His body could stretch all over his world
looping, but he could never eat his tail.


If all your electrons were in the right place, and all the wall’s
electrons were in the right place. You could feasibly walk through
the wall.

What would you do while in the wall? Think. Fear.
The superposition could rip your body into ragdoll parts.


When I turned clipping off, I expected the freedom to walk through
the wall and suddenly the floor
fell out from under me.

Every time I respawn I feel like my inventory is heavier,
and my flamethrower burns colder.

I started on the rooftop
The empty sky above was all I had
And all I needed
It was pure
Like a blank page
Waiting for a story to be written
But at the first sight of clouds
I fled to the top floor

There were fun and simple things on the top floor
Like Pokémon games
I got red, white, and blue
The monsters seemed so banal and repetitive
But nobody else would acknowledge it
Sending me into a dragon's rage
I tried using flamethrower on Charmander
Ending in futility as I ran out of burn heals
I looked out the window in frustration
Rain was falling outside
Inside
Patriotism was buffeted by the hail
So I devolved into a lower level

Going further down this building
For ***** and giggles
I found more ****
Less giggles
On a floor with a TV displaying the news
I was eager to learn about the world
Only to learn everybody hates each other
And nobody talks
Or cares
And the smartest person in the room
Is the one I agree with the most
Unable to view the tokens in my mind
As anything less than treasure
And those who try to persuade me otherwise
Are thieves
My spite steals tranquility
Like the persistent storm outside
My solution is shelter in lower levels

My experimentation on communication
With the general population
Had rained on my playful parade
But I felt very comfortable on a floor with friends
Until they saw through my charade
Discovering my emotions in disarray
As the people who made me love this building
Made me curse it's walls the more I loved them
I searched for the peaceful embrace of solitude
Once the storm outside transformed into a typhoon

I found that solitude
In a tiny bare room
With a syringe and spoon
I was unaware
That room was an elevator
That lowered me down the concrete void
As the hurricane outside rattled me violently inside my box
Trapped and lacking all agency
I resigned myself to wherever the elevator chose to take me

After the elevator finished pulling me into the basement
The tsunami seemed to cease
But I was buried under debris
I had to burrow out of my tomb
The dig was tedious and *****
My perseverance was heroic
But triumph was thwarted
When I reached the surface
To discover only wreckage remained
And when I looked up
I saw the building I inhabited
It's damaged facade
Made it clear
I would never visit those floors I missed on the elevator

Above my building
Hangs an empty sky
It's purity is a lie
The page was never blank
Just constantly written on and erased
To lure innocent readers into a tome

I am me
Until I am not
In the eyes of those who aren't me
Their perception of my ulterior motives pierces
every joke, compliment and remark
I attempt to burrow out of my chamber and into their's
But I find only confusion
Did anybody notice or care?
And if they did
Did they care about me?
Or the facade I built to buffer honesty?
Disgust is spelled on the faces of those forced into proximity
They view me as the canary in the coal mine of their life
Their contempt shocks stillness into me
Could we go back to pretending I'm human?
Are they putting salt in the wound to preserve it?
Or am I the remnants of a wasted youth?
Or a constant reminder of failure?
Do I help lower the bar to their own self worth?
Maybe I'm just paranoid
Is what I tell myself
To feel better
And I can drive down back roads all my life
But that won't erase the shame I feel of the car I drive
People sense my deviations and act accordingly
Their words spray like a flamethrower
Scorching my defenseless heart
And although my sympathy goes out to the innocent civilians
who were also hurt
I was mortally wounded
The well just continued to get deeper
I am haunted by what lies underneath
Afraid any passing archaeologist will dig it up
And share his discovery with the world
Then where will I hide?

a few songs can capture the modern sense of urbanity, and the
apocalyptic 5 a.m. of London - but i've become estranged from
that sort of neon addiction - there's no syringe involved,
no amateur photographers on the ready, either -
yes, a man of great love, but also of great contempt:
and that goes hand in hand.
the favourite memory of my first year at Edinburgh?
eating haggis neeps and tatties at the ***** ****'s
pub on the royal mile - followed by shots of whiskey -
in my student accommodation,
placing the amp on the windowsill, the window open,
and just jamming out far removed Nirvana solos
with a few spectators: modern day equivalent:
of mad max flamethrower guitar freak -
losing my virginity to Isabella: psychology 3rd year
exchange student - from Grenoble - France,
yep, not the ******* Himalayas - the Alps...
the lacrosse initiation ceremony in lycra shorts:
back then i'd be a stumbling buffoon after a bottle
of whiskey... these days? well, usually a closing
poem at 5 a.m. - minding the cats to come home
after spending it out in the cool on a sultry night -
i wasn't serious about the lacrosse -
jeez: the meat in this place is stuffing me -
get out before they tell you to buy your own gear:
team or group mentality? never got it -
soloist pronto - pronto andante - chirpier that way,
getting the whiff of the bubbly without stand-up:
imagine a sit-down comedian... hard to imagine.
the gym... oh **** me the gym...
you know, i knew a guy in first year that only managed
to cook up plain pasta, with salt... plain pasta
with salt... another guy ate spaghetti with
tomato sauce all year round... in the last week he
added meat to the mix... not trying to brag:
i'm even going to mention what i cooked -
                    i was living with horror seeing these
boys adapt to: mommy not here, mommy out to lunch...
daddy not here, daddy out to crunch out the income...
well... apart from the rich puppies who chose
catering accommodation, turning university
into a school with a pristine canteen - canned teens -
just as much - so if i wrote cantine you'd say:
canned thyme? how the hell does that work:
i abuse language, language doesn't abuse me -
i don't need cushions surround words like
()()()()()****()()()()() - better? much better -
hush the angry words out! use the sterilisers -
maybe that's why i never experienced anything bad
using the internet - honesty and bluntness -
maybe i shouldn't have said that. or that's just lucky.
princess and the pea and the 100 mattresses
and a fickle *** - ah itchy! it's pinching! it's pinching!
100 mattresses and still the ****** pea.
then again, staying up all night, then deciding to
climb Arthur's Seat at dawn, getting there, then
climbing down and going to Tesco at 7 a.m. to buy
cornflakes and full fat milk... that was something;
but you know what i'm really thinking about?
it's no longer a maxim, it's a cliche -
               but i'm thinking about it in mathematical
terms -                                from the verb
                           on one side, to the posit or inertia
on the other - there's no grammatical version of what
really becomes a pentagon with five attachment points
primarily - a cul de sac of facts -
                                                            but­ mingling with
grammatical categorisation nonetheless -
          but what i'm thinking about it how to make it
simpler, to use mathematical notation:
i.e.
               i think is an expression
                                       worthy of about 1 centimetre,
  given that thought is a marathon -
                   but i'll just say: could it be anything but
  so differentiated increment divisibility to
              thus provide a sigma? although the expression
is hardly an ad continuum - at some point you
stop thinking, hence to differentiate i think is assuredly
a way to say: well, not constantly - meaning thought
   is not a continuum - and can be talked about in the
same was as talk of god: that's where i place the prime
of ethical action - it's not god... i don't ascribe ethical
action in that direction: just too easy, whatnot with hell
and heaven and goody two shoes waiting for the
big spark of magic or applause and the heckler: well done!
god, dry humour is the best - sarcasm is dry humour -
satire is wet humour... and other than that?
               slapstick, nothing too witty, i hate witty comedy,
they always need canned laughter:
at least slapstick humour makes the effort for you too
make an effort... and it sometimes hurts, so it's real,
when you start flexing that abdomen and get a six smiley
faces on the torso.                anyway,
              looking at my **** it really dawned on me:
  (by the way, Descartes wasn't really out to prove he existed,
   someone thought he did, he was trying to work out a
proof for something that someone else would pick up
   and elaborate)             i think is but a centimetre
                              compared to the marathon of thought -
(sizes in this scenario is perfectly compatible) -
          meaning that               i am          (italics?
emphasis on these to expressions being unitary) is but
                 another centimetre compared to the marathon
   of being                                    or the Antarctic expedition
                      of non-being: i.e. not necessarily
   assembling: what if i wasn't here... but more like:
              what if i did something differently -
again, flea market questions -                        why bother?
    come to think of it: the former unit is more simpler
to encompass - although i agree that the former translates
into the latter: thinking proves i exist,
                            because ex omni instances
         (out of all), there's an equal compatible expression
of mutual exclusiveness: thinking - the two together are
juxtaposed to be allowed a kind relativism -
      but whereas the latter (i am) unit is not only plagued
by the nearest pentagonal absorption via the senses,
but also a definite article / articulation of so many posits
of expression: multiplex verb -
                  the former (i think) unit isn't:
a. plagued by the pentagonal... blah blah blah...
             but rather by a mandala of faculties:
   imagining things, remembering things, dreaming things,
               maybe i shouldn't have said that?
   who knows -
                             the basic thought was
about:           i think is but a centimetre compared
                               to a marathon of thought - a minor fact -
   i am is but a centimetre compared to a marathon of being -
     and to be honest: very few people would take
courage in understanding this glib in the sigma of all things -
imagine football hooligans equipped with this potential...
i can't: i was watching the Everton v. Sunderland today,
and all i could hear was the chant: YANNICK BOLAISE!
            YANNICK BOLAISE! YANNICK BOLAISE!
yes, this kind of writing is a paper mâché -
or a vegetarian starter - but, you know, if you don't
try something new, you'll definitely win a Pulitzer Prize...
  if you don't like it? chop chop, on you go.
i know Descartes wasn't wrong, and i know that
cogito ergo sum wasn't intended to prove anything -
but it did prove a founding block for existentialism,
that's where all existentialists take a **** - Descartes
is the dump where Sartre wrote his being & nothingness,
and Heidegger his being & time...
                        well, key ingredient in someone writing
a sophisticated aversion to time: space, would probably
write something about sitting next to someone on a tube
and writing about sardines and livestock -
                           humanity as a virus, etc. etc.,
   compared with someone writing and thinking out
a statement of: well, isn't this marvellous - so far apart
and clean, and solitary and chuckles.
    i just wanted to use the mathematical comparison,
deviating from the pivot                   therefore     -
   away from each of the unit's verbs and adjective attachments -
  i just wanted to stress that each respective facts,
  are but a centimetre of expression,
   compared with what each evolves into - a marathon
on either side - perhaps it's because that's a necessary building
block to something greater: i can't complain that being
aware of this fact is a hindering beginning -
       i'm not saying that being aware of this maxim is
somehow going to improve your contentment with life -
    geometrically it's not like
                                                      horizo­ntal left to right -
more like vertical left to left-up and right to right-up
             and never therefore - for a reason,
consequently... but rather in parallelism -
                   for no reason whatsoever -
                                              contra-sequential­ly;
unless you know a Queen of Sweden, i don't see how
thinking precipitates into being that might you
leave you satisfied - and let's not a put a ****** on it
either: how many thoughts about killing someone
end up being jokes with a friend late at night?

I.
Fireman, censor of literature and destroyer of knowledge, with his mighty flamethrower. He loves his work. He loves trouble and strife. He loves fascination with the people next door. Mostly, he loves his hammock. But sleep will be his final unrest.

II.
A gift for the darkness: reading from the forbidden kept hidden in the air-conditioning duct. The walls within turn on and off like Cora Pearl. His wife listens to far winds and whispers and soap-opera cries, sleep-walking, helped up and down curbs by a husband who might just as well not have been there. They walk on as an extinguished connection. In the flickering of his eyeballs, he dreams of driving recklessly to Dover Beach and drowning her.

III.
Burning bright. He is burning so brightly. In the factory of mirrors, he takes a hard look. He's a flammable book. And it's a pleasure to burn. "What are you doing?" She asks. "Putting one foot in front of another." He answers.

See this one here, look at the teeth on that
Would rip your mind to shreds if you ever let that inside your head
Yea! If you ever bought his *******
This one over here, this one's good, this one breathes fire
Look! Spits it out like a flamethrower
Would burn your whole world to a cinder just like that
(If you ever read his book)
One moment the sun is shining and you're smiling
The next... your whole world is in shadow and you're dying
All snuffed out... just like that
Depressed!!! Ha! Ha! You wouldn't be depressed
You'd be ******' suicidal, waking up every morning to face that... his words
Man! Your Life is over
Better get some bottles of whiskey and some drugs quick
You ain't going any further -
See this one here, ain't she cute but look again, look closer, ha! ha!  fooled ya
Just look at those gnashers, those gnashing teeth
And those claws, the nails on that
Once she gets a hold of you there ain't no getting back.

Yea! Just taking a stroll, a walk among my monsters
The monsters this world threw my way
This Zoo of horrors
(Some of the many rotten ideas that roam this earth).

                             II

O! They did terrible things to him
(But they would never do them again)
They had been harsh severe, mercilessly so
They had terrified and petrified him
Squeezed all the joy out of his life
He bore it all and the terrible weight of it so nearly crushed him,
And no one came to offer him any help.

But he didn't die...he nearly died... probably should have died... many times...
But somehow he found a way...a way to survive
And to come back... and now it was for him to dictate terms,
They were in trouble now and what's more they knew it
And one by one they began to sneak, to run away
All those who had ever offended him, caused him even the slightest degree of anxiety
The slightest hint of uneasiness or worry were now going to pay for it,
They'd had their fun, their time in the sun
And now they would answer for it
One by one he sought them out, one by one he tracked them down
They didn't scare him anymore, he caught them and put them all into little cages just for his amusement
So he could look at them sometimes... look at them and remember
Remember what they'd put him through.

                             III

O! Listen! Listen!!! Hear them howl, hear them roar... what lovely outrage
"The Children of the Night
O what sweet music they make...eh! Ha! Ha!"
See them grind their teeth against the bars
See them snarl and spit
With their beautiful red eyes of hate
You don't laugh anymore do you Big Fella
And you ain't so Big anymore
It's only me who does all the laughing now
Ain't that right !!!

(And the days and years they go by
But still, it's a beautiful looking sky
You'd hardly think anything bad went on underneath it).

And I look at you and am baffled
Was your experience...was it not the same as mine,
You say you'd like to know me, connect with me
You reach out and want to take my hand,
But how...how could you ever know me
The things I've seen, the places I've been
Live through this like I had to do...
(But isn't it the same for you also maybe).

Hey!!! Ha! Ha! You wanna meet some of my friends!

More certain than death and taxes
You spun me right off of my axis
Congratulations, that's the fastest
My heart has ever been reduced to ashes

Smiling kindhearted old man
Told me stories
How
He burnt the butterflies
How
He burnt human skin
Burnt villages
In burning squads
Of flamethrower men
Fire chased
Children and women
Over cliffs
Scares the **** out of me
To know that behind that smile
Is a dark hidden history

Take a step into the Firestorm.
Lyrics/Vocals Skitz AKA Mr.Sandman
Track,recording,production-Jay/Eclectic.Collective.
Lyrics.(Copyright Skitz AKA Mr Sandman)

Spittin' fire-desolation of the Sandman,
blink you'll miss the decimation of your clan man,
musical massacre with an Irish style,
time to stop driveling,your old cold style-

cause I'm riled up,fed up sick of your ****,
sit down or be knocked down,listen to the skitz spit,
flammable fumes,verbs turn to flame,
grammar fallin like a grand piano from a crane,
straight to your brain a flash of white light,
wear a fireproof suit you might catch light,
pay stage crews danger cash cause I'm scorchin',
E.C.-Schizophrenic-Sandman torchin,
a four alarm fire,I cause high premiums,
show respect or you'll be rappin through a medium,
mic's a flamethrower leave you screamin,
think you'll burn the Sandman?,wake up,you're dreamin.

Venue's on my menu,get it insured,
I walk through the flames,immune and immured,
immersed in hip hop, a sun gone nova,
drop the mic kid, just run,it's over.
my tank's full,petrol for adrenaline,
flame and blood like my name's Targaryen
you don't want to see my dragon's fly loose,
spit heat like a turnspit-cook your goose,

Stage is flaming,boy you best ghost,
hit the fire bell,you get burnt to toast,
white phosphorus combined in my mind,
get your goggles if you're goggling,you'll wind up blind,
Armageddon approaches,best make your way,
last stage I blazed you may have heard of-Pompeii,
you're gettin calcinated muy calor!,
a Supervolcano eruptin' on a dancefloor.

(chorus)
Magma,Plasma,they're not even warm,
Air Ripped from Lungs becomes fuel for the Storm,
Melt Icecaps,Globe start to warm,
****** Aircon-I spark a Firestorm.

Time to raise the heat,time to raise the stakes,
you're a lost smokejumper,praying for a firebreak,
trees turn to shrapnel,you're out of breath,
"I am fire,I am Death"

Reverse Mic Fiend rhymes steal the oxygen,
lungs collapse as I spin the storm again,
a terrible beauty,and an awesome blessing,
3rd degree burns,apply cool dressings
thats if you're lucky when I spit the gift,
last MC challenged me burnt to a crisp,
by words,deeds,heat bleeds stage smokin-I'm just gettin warm
thoughts spark the flames in a forest I'm a firestorm
fuel air bomb combined with Tsar Bomba,
Mount Doom blowing about to get Sundered,
hate is stokin' me,fuel to the forge,
16kept the heat banked long enough it's time to gorge,
Smaug heats up-flames spew forth,
you're guy fawkes on a pyre of fireworks.

Wondering,and blundering it's time to burn,
time to get roasted,you fool's won't learn,
that I'm hotter than a sunflare,beyond compare,
you're richard pryor tryin to smoke michael jacksons hair
don't dare me to flare into action,
don't care Keisha fusion core reaction,
fukushima and cherbobyl are my barbeques,
couldn't help yourself, you had to light my fuse,
I refuse to cool down-I'm scorchin',
Firestormtrooper lit,time for torchin'
Firewalk-comparison? Huh,a cool breeze,
flatten the building like Tunguska's tree's,
eyes hotter than Cyclops,you're weak at the knees.
supernova 200 billion degree's

(chorus)
Magma,Plasma,they're not even warm,
Air Ripped from Lungs becomes fuel for the Storm,
Melt Icecaps,Globe start to warm,
****** Aircon-I spark a Firestorm.

i've been in a prison of my own making...
it's kinda perfect, i get to read books
rather than watch television...
the blind flamethrower albino ******
is on the stats -
i end the night with a self-gratifying
exercise - the main sub article concerns
itself with **** and male *******...
never mind the ***** cut off for ******...
and never mind the Madonna-***** complex...
why, the problem is sorted:
if you don't get a hard-on with prostitutes
then you can blame it on ****...
otherwise? well, you'll hardly be the one to blame...
i see you using your ******.... the blue diamonds...
the litmus test is quicker done...
go to a brothel... once you get an *******
with a ******* all forms of feminism prescribing
masochism to men will disappear...
this erectile dysfunction will become a hoax...
it will become basis for the other thing
Freud is famous for, putting it nicely
the the Medusa-Madonna complex...
you can't be Oedipal with economic stresses...
someone has to take the blame...
******* is one strand of attitudes exercised...
we will have no Mozart, no Shakespeare when
we censor **** and bargain hunting celibates...
you basically censored the freedom of language
like you did undermining the European Union,
and European doctors giving way to an exodus
due to your cheap xenophobia...
X-factor contestants as doctors? i'll gladly wait and see,
you congest life into suffering akin to animals
in slaughterhouses... boy, i'll wait.
your Vermin will be your death angels... you'll
want to die, you'll be gagging for death when i'm
through... and yes, i remember my great-grandmother,
who remembered the 2nd world war...
as i said: ****** was gassed... due repayment of equal
measure... the Ypres guise of suburban Warsaw in
the trenches, in the ghetto; harsh, isn't it?
humanising something human when the soldiery
artefact is brought up? it must be harsh...
too much faith in the Luftwaffe, i'd dig under the channel
and let the Panzers roll in... this is my method
of appetising grievances to be rid off...
my grandfather asked SS-men for candy,
my great grandmother escaped the Nazis...
this is a healing process... i've taken the *******
and applied it to the star of David, ******* with it...
so it looks like reading a book on a prayer mat...
but that's not the bothersome triad -
people forget the success of Freud in the other department,
you can't pinpoint the influence of *******
without having to recognise the influence of
the Madonna-***** complex -
which would explain much more than scapegoat ****
is privileged by... why would i get an *******,
drunk (well yeah, at every opportunity a ******,
Virgos' tear) with prostitutes, and not be bothered
by *******... abstinence won't help...
it's enough to be governed by a psychiatric conundrum
of the fabled case of ******* your mother...
why all the blame on man? typical feminism...
Platonic feminism, Darwinism's feminism -
have they bothered to subscribe to the idea that it's not
simply a male affair? having professional pornographers
is the problem... a bit like at the Olympics...
the professional high jumpers are one thing...
you jumping into bed to frolic is another...
it's hardly a mono-****** affair ascribed to only one
gentrification - when you're a ******* decathlon
enthusiast, *******, working, cooking, raising the ids
of kids... you're supposed to be there,
specialised in the erectile business, and nothing more...
the hammer to a nail... redundancy following suit.
and what man will succumb to this?
perhaps he's talking Swahili or he's Somalian...
because, believe me, that's where you'r herding the flock
girl... i don't really care where the whites end up...
this Islamic attack on western culture is nothing,
nothing, compared to the apathy western women
implanted into western men's psyche...
a few terrorist attacks are nothing in comparison...
as said the once parallel now intersecting
conversation between King Solomon and Sheba...
these terrorist attacks are nothing compared to what's
coming... i blame Darwinism partly for having staged
a coup d'vie, meaning? i really can't be bothered!
usurp my indolence in the affairs of mind and body,
make me into your ideal dietary requirement checklist...
this thing we're experiencing is worse than
terrorism... feminism has made us indolent,
non-responsive... non-competitive...
we're basically trapped in a hamster wheel where
women fancied themselves to champion ethnic defence
strategies.... ruby ***** of all hues go round...
i was never a saint, but i wanted to be a sinner...
try that like winning the lottery...
if the white man dies, i won't even care to cry...
i'd be clapping... clap clap... clap clap...
i'll just know that i left the ideal hue of ***** behind;
what?! i liked to **** too! but obviously i
was given the poker hand of angling a repertoire
akin to a monk like Martin Luther.

Noah is a boy of eight years with almond brown eyes and soft black hair, and he loves dragons and elephants. Right now, he and his dad Frank are sitting around their living room coffee table, a snowstorm whipping through the darkness outside the windows...

“I'm here too,” a dragon says, lurking in a corner of the room in attacking position. “I am the Bewilderbeast and I'm from the children's show ‘Dragons’ – my body is as big as ten stacked oxen, and my wings are covered with sharp black spikes. My tail is gigantic and deadly. And by the way, I have blood-red eyes.”

Now an elephant speaks up and trumpets: "Törööö! I am Benjamin. You may think I’m big and scary, but I am gentle. I love sugar cubes more than anything: eating them is my passion. How yummy! Otherwise, I'm the quiet type: I avoid quarrels and wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

Noah and Frank want to play Uno (a card game). Frank shuffles the cards, putting the neat stack on the table while reaching for a freshly opened beer bottle. He takes it and empties it in one go.
Noah follows his father's drinking movement, quietly observing.

When Frank has finished, Benjamin asks: "You know what, Noah?"
"What?" Noah wants to know.
"Oh," Benjamin growls.
"Did you just say something?" Frank asks.
"No, I was just thinking out loud," his son answers, as the Bewilderbeast grumbles to him:
"I hate it when Frank drinks."

Then the great dragon snorts until embers like fireflies come out of his throat. They swarm around the living room and settle everywhere like glowing neon-yellow dust.

"Don't like dirt on the table," Noah complains.
"You're right, Noah. The cards are well-shuffled and I'm quite able to do so", Frank says after opening his second bottle. He drinks it half empty and hums, "Playing cards is great fun, you know. When I was little younger than you are now, I used to thrill and entertain everyone with my card tricks at my grandmother's wonderful birthday party."

While Frank talks, Noah secretly mimics him.
"Ha! That was something," Frank adds, running his fingers through his hair and licking his lips. "If only they hadn't always drunk so much. That bothered me as a child. I often lost myself in my thoughts, thinking about how to build the biggest house of cards in the world, while grandma and grandpa danced and bumped into each other causing hearty roars of laughter."

Reflexively, Frank grabs the half-full beer bottle and drinks it up.
"After the party, they lay drunk on the carpet," Noah says quietly.
Frank doesn't seem to hear that and adds: "In the end they were laying on the carpet, drunk. Oh yes, good people, but they couldn't help their drinking."

Noah repeats in a whisper: "But they couldn't help their drinking."
Frank doesn't take notice; he gazes at the empty beer bottle. His thighs bob up and down and again. Frank licks his lips. "You know what, Noah?" he says. "You deal the cards. You know, eight for each player, and no cheating."  

After Frank has jumped up and left the living room, the Bewilderbeast hisses: "Frank is no good, because he only talks about himself, about his childhood. But what about you, Noah? That ****** me off," he roars ravingly. He spits fire again, this time without regard for Noah, forcing him to take cover under Benjamin's belly, beside his knobby legs.

The ruby-red eyes of the Bewilderbeast cut the living room's twilight with their brilliance and he spits out one fire salvo after the other, just as a flamethrower does...

"Please stop!" Noah is shouting, but the dragon only responds "Forget it. Everything here must burn. We have to erase your father's memory, only then he will learn to love you. You also hate the living room, don't you? – because Frank drinks here all the time."

"Don't let him fool you,” Benjamin is humming. "The wild beast spits fire, that's all very well, but breaking things... That," Benjamin yawningly mumbles "he can't do."  

Then the fire subsides, while Noah crouches between Benjamin's legs, eyes wide open. Frank comes back, another beer bottle in his right hand, drinking. When he sees Noah curled up, he snorts with laughter and spits the beer in his mouth on his son. Noah does not seem to register this. Frightened, he stares at the Bewilderbeast who, in a resting position with one red eye open, is waiting for the next attack.  

"Oh boy, beer's e'rywhere!" Frank slurs as he slams the beer bottle on the table and bends down to Noah to take him into his arms.
"****!"
Frank runs into the bathroom to grab a towel, and comes back, carefully rubbing Noah's hair dry.
"Ew," grumbles Noah. "I hate that."
Frank looks at Noah uncomprehendingly: "The hair have to be rubbed off. Don't they?"
"Don't believe him", the Bewilderbeast hisses. "He's lying to you, Noah."

At the same time, Benjamin is saying to Noah: "You see, Frank loves you. He's rubbing your hair off. And he feels bad about the spilled beer."
Noah's face is white as a sheet. "Stop it, stop it, stop it," he whispers and covers his ears.

Frank looks at his son with concern. He lets the towel down and slowly takes Noah's hands off his ears, brushes a wet hair, which sticks to Noah's forehead, from his face.
"Can't look at you when you're in this state", Frank says gently. Without hesitation, he pokes Noah in the stomach with his fingers and tickles him so that Noah breaks out, first tentatively, into laughter.

He tries with all his strength to shake off his father's hand, but it doesn't work, although Frank has to make funny movements to tickle him any further. The two become entangled with one another and cannot stop the laughter.
But then Noah stops laughing and asks: "Daddy, why do you drink beer?"
Frank doesn't seem to have expected such a direct question. He pauses for a moment and answers: "Because it tastes good. Why do men drink?"

Noah shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not a man yet. But if it's good, why do you drink so fast? I always think you don't like the beer."
"Well," Frank grumbles, "I don't drink that fast. What makes you think that? It’s a matter I would have to deal with more closely, it needs to be weighed up and thought through thoroughly before jumping to conclusions."

The Bewilderbeast whispers furtively: "He's lying, Noah. Do not believe a word he says."
Benjamin says: "Frank is addicted to beer. But he doesn't want to hurt you."

This time Noah keeps calm. And he goes on to ask the next question: "Do you like it or not?"
Frank's eyes roam the room like he's looking for something. The Bewilderbeast snorts quietly; Benjamin, being in a good mood, is eating a handful of sugar cubes.
"Well, you know Noah – I like beer. But I used to drink it much slower."

Noah looks at Frank seriously and sadly. You mean when Mom was still alive.
Frank answers with his eyes. And nods, hardly noticeable.
Father and son remain silent. "You see," Benjamin says: "You and dad are connected by something: By the death of your mother Ruth."

The Bewilderbeast says: "Frank drinks the beer because he can't stand your grief, Noah. And he loves Ruth much more than he loves you. He wishes you had died instead of her."
"Can we turn on the music, daddy?"
"Which song?"
"Tears In Heaven," Noah answers. "You know, by Eric..."
"Clapton." Frank replies. Then he gets up and goes into the next room to play the song on YouTube.
"Is the sound bar turned on, Noah?"

Noah checks and notices countless glittering lights buzzing around the speaker block, sparkling like stars in the Milky Way. Noah is magically attracted by this sight, stares at the lights with his mouth wide open and reaches out his index finger...
"Noah!" Frank shouts. "Is the system on or off?"
"No," Noah answers. "The stars are no longer there".
"What? Don't be stupid," Frank grouses as he returns to the living room. He pushes Noah aside. "Let me check it out." Frank bends down to the sound bar, fiddling with the wiring. "No wonder, Noah. The optical cable broke. Did you do that?"
Noah looks at Frank, meaningful and meaningless. "You know what, dad... Why don't we play cards instead?"

Frank seems unhappy and is stepping fidgety from one leg to the other, takes the beer bottle off the table and realizes in frustration that it's empty. "**** it," Frank scolds, but then he looks at Noah and blushes.
"I've got an idea!" Noah suddenly exclaims. "Let's make a deal, dad. You get yourself a beer."
"And then?" Frank asks skeptically.
"Tonight, you drink it slowly. Are you scared?"
"Scared?" Frank asks while he hurries off.

Shortly afterwards he returns, holding an open beer bottle in his hand from which nothing has been drunk yet. He puts the bottle on his lips, drinks the first two sips quickly, pauses, puts the bottle on the table, and rubs his stomach.
"But now I have to go to the toilet, oh my."

By this time, Benjamin is already asleep, a sugar cube is stuck between the tip of his trunk and the floor.
Noah smiles. When his father has left the living room, Noah says, without looking, to the Bewilderbeast: "You see – Daddy loves me. Otherwise he wouldn't drink more slowly. It's that simple, isn't it?"
No answer.

Noah turns around to look. Where the Bewilderbeast huddled, there is now a small dragon figure. Carefully, Noah sneaks up to it, and when he feels that there is no danger coming from the figure, he holds it to his ear and whispers: "Daddy loves me, doesn't he?"

Thirty-nine and single
and its been this way four years.
A few flings on the side,
a little skin to skin win,
jumbled kind words in passing,
bubbled emoji smiles,
a morsel from your crumbling heart,
a giant bite of your sin.

I've never been the cheater.
Had my fun when things were undefined,
kept my exes as friendships,
but never crossed the invisible fence line.
Never broke that kind of promise,
never ate the fruit from that Tree of Knowledge

Never been the cheated as far as I know,
I wasn't born to play that cuckold role.
I am just the grateful accomplice,
a secret man-shaped hole in your life,
you speak of only with that man.
We bump and rub our egos,
while you make more sensible plans.

I am a gift that knows nothing or generosity,
humility that swings with fists for fences,
salvation with a price tag,
water for the hungry,
sunshine on a frigid Universe,
the morality of a well meaning fool.

"I can get by on little or nothing."
And I quit my job without reason.
I've got no paper in my pocket,
and not much working for me,
on the street.

I'm not a vegetarian,
I like the smell,
the flesh and soul,
of sizzling meat.

I am "woke" in a way that is not yours,
Woke to the true and endless fight against injustice.
Woke to pragmatic workable solution,
But I expect people to laugh off
or confront a microaggression.
Your complaints mean little to me.
I was born with an incurable disease.
And "if I was half the man I used to be,
I'd take a flamethrower" to your safe spaces,
to your shout downs,
when they threaten free speech.

My hands and arms are strong,
but my legs are weak.
My life is weak.
My car is scraped, dented,
and full of paint and ash.
I quit my last job without a reason.
The next one will be worse.
I owe more than I earn,
preach more than I learn.

My jacket is torn.
My sweater is fifty years old.
My feet are rough beach rocks.
My jeans sag below an alcoholic's gut.
My teeth are yellow nicotine.
My knees crack.
My *** bleeds.
My hands shake.
My **** quakes.

My back aches,
threatening violent mutiny.
My beard is just beginning
its unstoppable transition to gray.
My sweatshirt reeks of ****.
Nights sweats flood my sheets every night,
whether we are together or alone.

My eyes are above it all,
window to my soul,
so much more apt and able,
to produce tears.
In that one way,
I have grown.

This Soul is the unforgiving ice
of a small pond
in a giant winter meadow.
The yellow grass is dead,
but keeps its head above the snow.
The evergreens sway solemn in brutal wind.
The pond is safe to skate on,
If you don't fall too hard.

As we move towards the work of Love
the internet makes a shrewd habit,
of taunting our loneliness.
It supports an army of strippers,
sending stock requests to be "friends,"
with the hope a man might feel loved,
just enough to surrender Visa digits.
Lost girls courting lost boys,
twelve dozen at a time.

My heart wails for affection,
As all hearts must do.
But the wail is just another song now,
passed by painted fingernails
on the local radio dial,
sung only to myself,
like an organist practicing hymns,
in an empty church at midnight.

The sea is a disaster of churning
LCU's buck like horses
From behind is heard the guns of destroyers
run aground in the shallow channel
Sixteen men shiver though the air is humid
Fifteen men know
they die today
Guns erupt from the cliffside
geysers of flame and water erupt all around
Craft is tossed
moving at snail speed
As death slowly approaches
Tongues of flame flash from pillboxs
the first man falls
Useless helmet fatally flawed
The boy begins to giggle
he tries to light a cigarette
his thumb refuses to flip the wheel
The ringing ping of ricochets off the hull
a rhythm of massacre
tears of a soldier singing his deathknell
Bow meets beach
gate goes down
Into the surf the soldiers leap
Clothing and gear turns to wet suits of armor
that do not protect from anything
Everything is screaming
****** bits blasted back into the sea
from ruptured flamethrower
Waves crash crimson and ******
pink foam forms
sickly **** of slaughter
Men cut down like wheat
the horror not complete
until Kraiss and Goth
order retreat
By then
three thousand men
lie dead in the waters
To the victor the spoils
blood and death like no other
The end begins
on the red shore of Omaha.

The old church lay in ruins, left to languish in time.
He was sitting on the grave talking to Sergeant R Johnston.
Well, I suppose you want an update on the war.
Let me see now, where do I begin.
Monday 0500 hrs, Pete was the first to moan, ******* hate early mornings.
Well, you would stay up all night playing cards.
Yeah, well just you remember that’s two million quid you owe me.
You better watch my back then, don’t hesitate to take a bullet for me, and for fucksakes if you’re throwing grenades about, don’t forget, it’s not the pin you throw, it’s the grenade.
*******, I got over excited.
The attack was sudden, Tony got hit, we were lucky, the ambush was poorly planned, we killed five before they ran.
Back at camp, I was starving, full English was a must, pass the sauce old chap, is that this months ******* you're reading, just love reading the stories.
Yeah right.
Just last week I was reading about this woman who made love to an onion, brought tears to my eyes, do you know her life unravelled in front of her.
You’re full of ****, don’t get the pictures sticky.
News came in, Tony didn’t make it.
The trip to the ******* tent seemed less appealing now.
Kit check, clean rifle, count bullets, kit check, clean rifle, count bullets.
Letter from home, Mary and John are getting married, Mary.
I’ve to see that shrink, what do I say to him.
Tell him you want to unburden yourself, so we’ll call it quits on the money I owe you.
*******, I’ll warm him up for you.
Half an hour later.
******* ******, said my brain was like an onion.
He did, did he, the ***** *******, I was wondering where that magazine went.
You better go see him.
Come in, I’m Dr Massey, I’m going to have an informal chat with you, sort of get to know you, anything you want to ask me.
Your fly is open.
So sorry, right lets get started, you’ve been involved in a lot of the fighting recently, talk me through it.
Let me see, we’re heading out of camp, now I always check the lunch menu before we go, it’s fish, simple dish, not to long on the hot plate, splash of lemon, great. We’re at a standoff, so I say to Pete, toss a grenade at them, guy's a genius with a grenade, can throw it for miles.
Though for some reason he’s mixed up the procedure, the grenade ends up killing the livestock, the enemy see this as an insult and go bonkers.
Then just as things couldn’t get any worse, I get back to camp to find the chefs burnt the fish, I mean, how the hell can you burn fish.
Right, this is interesting, go on.
Next day we’re heading out, steak’s on the menu, now I like my steak well done, so I was looking forward to lunch. Quiet morning, get back to camp, the idiot’s used a flamethrower on the steaks, swear to god he’s the real enemy.
Can i ask you, when you’re on home leave, do you get flashbacks, and if so, how do you deal with them.
I usually discuss everything with Sergeant Johnston.
Right, this is good, he’s been through this himself.
Oh yes, amazing man, do you know he survived the Somme only to be killed a year later in a mining accident.
Okay, wind back a bit, you talk to Sergeant Johnston who is actually dead, does he talk back you.
Come on doc, he’s like the chefs best effort at cooking, dead.
Okay that was quite interesting, what’s on the menu today.
Lasagne.
Is that good.
If you want to die, yes, better off reading a magazine.
Do you read a lot.
Yes I was reading this magazine on the workings of the human body, right up your street doc, but I seem to have misplaced it.
Well I hope you find it.
So do I doc, it will be a definite relief.

donald-trumpaphobia
college **** culture
women's rights
global warming
social inactivity

ISIS and extremists
melting ice caps
who crash into deep water, gone, undone
lack of civility in millennials

technology enhanced cyborgs
whose eyes have been surgically sewn to a screen
family issues and self-created isolation
coining yourself the black sheep
to compensate for the need of attention

even if its the wrong kind
one upping to feel important
even if it means leaving your sister in your shadow
the need for narcissism and self-obsession
self-praise and prickly conversations

held at arm's length because we can only stand to be around you
for a few minutes at most and
I yell at you but you do not take in my words
you listen not to understand but to reply

talking to you is more work than talking to a brick wall
which you've build around yourself because if no one can get in
no one can hurt you

and we get it, you're serious about global issues
and we respect it. we encourage it. we praise it.
but haven't you heard
that too much of a good thing... is bad?
and too much of a bad thing.. is, well... good.

not.

you can only build walls so high
before they tumble down and destroy that around them
spewing debris in all directions like a flamethrower with no limit
a tongue of fire burning everyone around
that not even water can heal, leaving scars

reminders
that although you have been quenched, rebuilt, moved on
your words, your actions
they live on, physical reminders to the pain you put me through
although we sit and laugh, I remember

sooner or later you have to know
that living is not dependent upon pointing out
every social issue and making future plans
complaining about all the world's problems
and rambling until your mom makes you stop

a big part of living is enjoying it
the carefree sunsets with toes covered in sand that sticks
and midnight premiers at harry potter movies
enjoying life is dancing in the kitchen with your lover
while rainbow colored pancakes cook

and running to make the winning goal as the clock ticks to zero
blood pumping through your veins
even when faced with death in a close call car cash
life speeding by in a heartbeat
only then can you appreciate that you are alive

live and love
don't waste it all criticizing and changing all that's wrong in the world
because you are only you
you cannot fix everything

I don’t want to be Bukowski
anymore
Filling women with my emptiness
Dowsing ***** with gasoline
Fondling the
icky, sticky
gritty sweet with my
fat-fingered, ***** nailed
slur


I want to be  J. D Salinger
Just one something
so significant,
(even if it outlines the disturbing),
and then
a permanent exit

But here I am
Just like chuck  
looking for a flamethrower
to eradicate that ******* bluebird

The words
spewed with all the sincerity
and eloquence I can muster
always lewd

I may have enticed a bit a love
via thin pen
to come knocking once or twice
but the sentiments
they contain no glue

And so when I tumble
back into
the hopeless spaces between
the dust and ***
there is no you.
or us

There is just
this interminably
ugly
I
believing Bukowski was right

And of course I deserve this ****
but
It would be better
to disappear
to never share
to take my ball and go home
forever
home
Yeah,

I want to be Salinger

My body shakes from adrenaline
Trying to rid the memories but
Reliving each moment in 3D
Crying and screaming in horror inside.

I don't even want to remember
I don't want to write it down
But it's the only way to get it out
To bring this Nightmare to light

The first thing I saw in my dream
Was my pale pink walls stained with blood
Splattered up to the ceiling beside by bed
Someone had been murdered there

I ran away in fright from this hell
This hell of a lucid dream
I ran the hell out of my house
And ran into a worse hell than my room

Public showers at a public pool
One showerhead a flamethrower
One showerhead boiling acid
Their victims lying there dead

Beside the pool were two lovers
A man and woman locked in a kiss
Frozen dead pale and stiff
The woman held a knife in his back

I ran away screaming only to come face to face
With the family who did all this
A psychopathic group set out to ****
And I was next on their hit list

I ran and ran and ran and ran
Running until I was out of breath
I kept running though my body failed me
I collapsed on the ground and died of heart failure

So that is my dream in a nutshell
Described as plainly as I can
Details avoided the horror unexplained
Nothing can be worse than this

My Nightmare of a Century
The Dream that tested my strength
Tested my bravery
My will power

I may not go to sleep again tonight
I may need to write to let it go
I may need to eat for comfort
And drown my mind in music and schoolwork

It doesn't make me less strong
It doesn't make me weak
It's just how I push through these times
When the Dawn comes I'll sing with joy

Thank you God for being here for me
When no one was online on Facebook
To talk to, to ask for prayer, to reach out to
Thank you for being 24/7/365 --I hate being alone.

I imagine you’re sitting there. Listening intently. Hanging onto every word until the next one comes along. There are bottles on the counter and nobody cares what time it is.
A mist of existential reconciliation permeates the room and that ****** candle just will not die. Your eyes are doing that thing again. Where the spirit of the one caught by them, longs to throw itself to their mercy.
You’re going to smile and the room might as well fold in on itself because nothing else will matter at that moment. The moon tries so hard to get a glimpse but the blinds are pulled.
And I, the wretched Hop Frog (it’s a Poe reference), clawing away at my chest from another world away. Desperately trying to get at my heart, if for no other reason than to prove that it’s there.

You and I have become a house on fire, a thousand hoses cannot douse us
we just spark up again, like a Phenoix of desire.
Rubbernecks scoff and say we will go out any second
yet we're still burning, and we will glow white hot
long after all the scoffers go find another house to stare at.
Their voyeurism only feeds our carnal flame. I suppose that we should thank them.
Our flamethrower love cannot be snuffed, slingstones and swords will never be enough
to tear down this house, even our own heat will not destroy it.
Our love is made of the toughest materials.
So we will dance in the bonfire that cannot burn us,
their hoses cannot douse us.
All the hoses fire fluff, that evaporates without ever dimming our light.
This Inferno of ours, is composed of coloured myriads
of lust and passion,
always blended with equal parts love and tenderness.
Because tenderness, it tempers us
it turns our lust to loveliness,
nothing is as perfect as us, standing in our pyre
when we realize we are not the ones being burned.
It's our passion that radiates, our love will never hurt us.
Our bodies aflame, they can't take their eyes off of us.
I can't say I blame them,
for I cannot take my eyes away from you either.
So lets stoke the heat between us, and we will stay together,
living inside the fire of our passion, free forever.


A Burns 2012

It was in my barracks that I learned the ol' saying
Persuading me to keep my clips from ever failing,
The gun may jam, a jester of the devil himself
To sway my gun from the enemy and turn it on myself

I a young private, along with my brothers in arms
To fight against the evils of the Viet Kong,
Rounds burst out far from my sight
But I knew those strong soldiers who fall,
will sleep well tonight...

We pushed them back far from our hill
Fired bullets and rounds to make our kills
Behind me stood the infantry men
Men of which I was one, still I couldn't comprehend
The bloodshed ran red, covered us with the killing sin

Still we fought, pushed them further than before
But on the back of my best friends helmet, I read
"All's Fair in Love and War"
We fought together, not a solider to him I was
It took one bullet to end his mighty cause

I patched his wound, I covered in his blood
As bombs and bullets rang out, I did the best I could
His helmet was like a well
The blood spewed from his bullet hole spout
Located to the left side of his head, I cried out
"ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR!"

I got up pouncing, bitter feeling swelled my brain
My assault rifle fired into the crowd
Of enemy's to which I showed disdain
I cut them down one by one
As my best friend lye in a pool of his own blood

Tears ran down my face
As the flame of a flamethrower heated my space
His body burned as in old English did at the stake
For his loss was not in vain said my Sargent
Looking at me with the sad look on his face

There on that hill I learned the ol saying that day
That every soldier on that battlefield held to their fates
And on our way home, back to the U.S of A
Quietly we wept with our ol saying
To call out to all those who fell, We let out a prayer
Then we all cried out,
"All's Fair in Love and War"

Does anyone know that itch you get when you see someone else
Taking the one you thought was yours ?
That little green bug of jealousy
Crawling around deep down under your skin.
That's how I feel right now.
Seeing those girls sweet talk you
Flirt with you.
It sickens me.
I should be everyone one of those girls.
I should be the one you love.
It's tearing me apart inside to see this.
Forget them.
Remember me.
I was the one who really loved you from the start.

Those girls don't love you !
I love you.
Me, and me alone.
If those girls get any closer to you
I'll tear their pretty little heads off
And crack their precious perfect fingernails.
Burn their expensive clothes with a flamethrower.
Take a staple gun to their high heels and Uggs.
I'd do anything to see you smile
To hear you laugh
To taste your lips.

You don't seem to see me
When those girls are around.
They fill your vision
Leave no room for me.

Do you think that
Since the suspected suicide attempt
I am weird and not to be talked to ?
Well you don't know it but
I wasn't gonna harm myself !
It was just a way that I thought
I could get you to see me.
To understand I'm not one of those girls
With the all pink wardrobe
And no combat boots
And no black
Who can't fend for herself.

Well I guess that was a fail.
I should never have ever uttered the word
"Suicide"
Because it ****** up my whole **** life.
Nowadays you seem to be reserved around me
Always alert for anything wrong.
I appreciate that you care.
But it's not how I need it to be.
I need you to just be chill around me
Not be so cautious.
Please.
Let's fix this.

Now that you've read that
Are you creeped out ?
When I say
"I love you"
I mean that
You are just the one I want to hang out with
To be friends with
To call you mine.
Maybe without getting too serious.
I just want to be known as yours
And you to be known as mine.
You could say it's love
But it's not exactly love.
You get it ?

Gosh
I feel better now
But I need you to be there
For me to feel perfect.
Thank you.

wisps
of
smoke
blown
into
the
wind

tattoo
piercing
pushing
a rock
over
a hill

a candle
a torch
a floodlight
a flamethrower

imaging
projecting
thinking
breathing

On this front there are many different views,
And when they are disputed sometimes they're ignited like a fuse.
Fire is thrown everywhere just like the propellant from a flamethrower Sides are taken and walls are built similar to Trump and a SpanishVoter.
Then there are the ones who choose no side
They believe that one person doesn't make a difference
But in the end, it is all of those single people who make up the world
They make up society, laws, government, and schools.
Now think to yourself and ask, "What if they're all corrupt?"
If they are, we are being slowly but surely poisoned with no hope to reconstruct.

- Just some food for thought.

I’ve lost my motivation to write. I’ve shared oceans of emotions to countless strangers, the Pacific runs deep, so does poetry.  It’s ingrained into my veins, the poetic blood is running thin. I’ve given my mind to putting pen to paper, in the hopes of sharing what won’t be heard.  I’ve screamed out my pains to crowds of has-beens, wanna-bes and random men buying their coffee.  No body ever listens. A great poet once said; “listen to the words, never mind who says them.”  How can you listen to my words, when I don’t even believe I’ve spoken?  I’ve become tongue tied, I’m caught between the lines of false hope and empty pages.  The somber truth is, I don’t know what to write about.  All my scars have been shown, tears have dried up stage floors and self-drawn blood has been cleaned.  What is left to write about when sadness is my motivator?  Everything.  I have more to write about then I ever did.  I can share the moments that cleared my skin of all anguish , Times I sweat poor-appointed fears away. I can tell stories of when I banished a fire-breathing female that took my heart, cooked it like bacon.  The only hope I have left is that it still tastes good to next elegant beauty that comes my way.  I’m the sea of open ideas, an unquenchable desire to fill empty pages.  I’m no longer caught in the web of words I trapped myself into.  The broken promises of “I’ll write tomorrow” no longer exist, just sub-conscious here-say. Approaching from darkness, I whisper to my finger tips and pencils, here comes a new motivation.  It’ll lead to sunny summer Sunday’s, rainbows follow thunderstorms.  I wonder if the leprechauns left me the *** of gold.  I won’t know until I set fire to my graphite flamethrower.  So if you’ll excuse me, I must getting going, my words are getting hot, and I’m ready to write.

a[ɛ]m I going psychotic in my dA̲[ɛ]mn mind
or ma[ɛ]nkind is on a deranged ride
[in fact, I prefer the word "humankind", but it doesn't fit with the rhyme pattern]
on an armored train? like that power-cray
North Korean son of a bo[ɑ]mb afraid
of his own go[ɑ]ddamn shadow, for it, ju[ɪ]st like
this *****#cking fatso's order, is quite
terrible; on a reckless ride that's
go[ʌ]nna take
the highly developed kind back
fro[ʌ]m the age
of reason to the uncivilized past's
darksome days
["dark somedays"]
(probably the latter)
————————————————————————————————
should be in a mental asylum watched over (why?)
off my "meds" like some iron-grip jE̲rkwad
[the meds were mostly video games]
in power striking a wA̲r up
an indescribable U̲rge to wreak destruction & ******
[mostly lyrically]
as if I were a horse-riding enforcer of the Apo[ɑ]calypse or a
jihadist supporter of the IslA̲mist new order
heading to a spot with the public galO̲re to
turn up at; I'm highly avE̲rse to
autocracy, but tyrant-like to[—]ward a kindergartner-like verser
half-a## writers, conformers, & allies of usurpers
better put on something fire-sound or go underground
like the Camorra or Johaness Arnesson, fO̲r I
["for I" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "fora"]
[Camorra is a part of the underworld]
[Johannes Arnesson (Owl Vision) makes underground type of electronic music]
am, like when a living victim's hide's being bU̲rned to
muscles by a hob O̲r a cutting blowpipe, a fierce torcher
["torture"]
and if there were, like Ivan the Fourth, a
terrible tsar & a murker, like a hitman satisfying hit orders
[the reign of Ivan the Terrible is infamous for, inter alia, tortures]
for me to take my pick like a **** 𝑓𝑜[ɔ]𝑡𝑘𝑎
["pic."]
I'd, like the wight-like equine rider
direct my sight on the former (scythe); you hardly can stI̲r up
[Death, the pale one of the 4 horsemen of the Apocalypse]
a spark, I've come to the taiga & stI̲rred up
a violent inferno; while in the wilds, I've discerned a
couple of male old-timers encircled
by some guards & cam workers; a fire fiend, for the
restless mind is like a flamethrower
which this corruption-plagued world su—
—pplies with fuel like a "Flying J" servo
don't get this wrong, I can't be bothered re[eɪ]
which kai is fave by which state, but I'm afraid
autocracy is, in the China vein, on the rise today (on the rice)
but, for the sake of a fighter plane
laying f#cking waste to a ride or train
with an autocratic ******* aboard
what is a singular someO̲ne that ain't
a well-savvy hacktivist nor
a sick gunfighter, like Max Payne
to do when the disbalance between a civil society
and a regime in some abysmal auto[ɑ]cracy
is so grave there's nothing safe
and rock-solid, like a tungsten *****
to do to undermine this state
of affairs? apply the cre[i]do of yours
to whatever at which you are versed
that's why I'm engaged in my anti-autocratic rhyme crusade
[previously to this one: "punishment of an autocrat"; "надвигался 2022-ой" ➔]
[➔ "a couple of words for dictators" & anti-authoritarian fragments ➔]
[➔ of some other rhyme pieces published by me]
I might lO̲O̲k to be an evil-minded skate
now, but, seizing the opportunity
like some viced ***** gained
a role O̲f a rU̲ler with
an unchecked political might & aimed
at establishing a tight-grip reign inside the state
there's something I'd like to say
I hhhooock... thooo... spit on tyrants' graves
and graves of their compliant aides
without the slightest shame, I, like a crane for construction, raze
["raise"]
their heads—tones by a mace from the knightly age
bet taphophiles ain't gonna like the way
in which I behave; ones who're enviro-cray
better get fire squa[ɑ]ds awake like a rite that takes
place after someone's life has waned
wholly (a wake), 'cause I get mY̲ hands laid
on a pulverizer with spirits of wine & spray
it on those scheissers' grave—yards, then make
'em go, like the face of someone laughing so wildly they
are about to split their sides, ablaze
and I've barely gotten underway
lyrics-wise, I'm gonna give a harsh time
to a power-blinded, nazissistic go[ɑ]bshite
a sort of tea party which you'll no[ɑ]t like
'cause there's a billypo[ɑ]t rife with steaming splo[ɑ]sh I've
got in the pipeline, like oil, & will be pleased to slo[ɑ]sh right
into your filthy mug, swine, so here's a piece of a[ɑ]dvice
better get equipped with some wipes
and something chilling, much like
a horror game when you sit without lights
and with earphones on in the middle o[ʌ]f night
it may seem now as if I'm a kitchen cart guy
and you're at an eating spo[ɑ]t (why?)
'cause you're about to get served
scuzz, I'ma strike
a lyrical skewer through your mouth & your stern
just like a swine
————————————————————————————————
it is night-time, like the pre-enlightenment E̲[i]poch, but I'm
["knight time"]
like a ballista sho[ɑ]t flyi[—]ng
the target's way, in the open air & quite away
like an anthracite aflame/ablaze
["(a) vay" (Malagasy) - "(a) glowing coal"]
nearby the gates of your sublime estate
a mite ashamed to say this, but I might be ta'en
for the Russian state or the "Hamas" brigade (why?)
these premises are like Ukraine
or Israel, respectively, inasmuch as they
are gonna be violated sI̲m. to a victim of a ******; finna
penetrate your villa like the agent Fisher
[Sam Fisher from the "Splintel Cell" videogame series]
which is gonna be made much quicker
than you, a[ɛ]nxious geezer, would make a lady stimu—lated I̲nto
the ****** state; your security system & lights are way
like a surgeon who's armless, they no longer o[ɑ]perate (ha-ha)
'cause I have an EMP device in play; the weather, by the way
is trash, raining, just like Hussein in his presiding days (trash, reigning)
but your cap-cladded daw[ɑ]gs remain
outside despite that & an adage Russians say
that a dog keeper that is mindful ain't
gonna let his dogs be outside at the time it rains
or when some other weather that's bad becomes the case
but thA̲t's, un—like the sign that's made
of metal & acts A̲s an
indication that it's a co[ɑ]p you face
not a bother; like a register that has an
["buzzer", in the sense of "police badge"]
abundant range
of info about a vile regime's pieces of crap having
rank slides, such as their addies, mug sho[ɑ]ts, & names
a specialist, the black-cladded
["special list"]
crusader from the Norsefire-tyrannized UK
in the Guy Fawkes mask strapped with
[V from "V For Vendetta"]
a blowgun with darts, like the pirate claimed
the title of an assassin
[Edward Kenway from "Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag"]
by which I sedate those diletta[ɑ]nte[—]s ordained
to guard your place as I slyly make my go[ɑ]ddamn way
forth like a farcE̲U̲r coming out
of behind the stage
lock pick the door of your house
then walk inside like a pro[ɑ]mena[eɪ]de (walking site)
while touring around
the pretty so[ɑ]lid place
of yours, I encoun—
—ter your do[ɑ]xy draped
with a corse[—]let-like towel
not far away from the room in which you shower, bathe
with her bo[ɑ]dy shape, to one whose mind's unchaste
she's like a va—cant front seat to one whose sight's debased
hard not to try & take; but, given the time & place, I try to stay
away from these broad thoughts like an ex-****-bawd (thots)
besides your inviting bae
like a ship-parking space nearby a pirate-obliging place
["inviting bay"]
I descry your maid nearby the kitchen-dinette; they
both get tranquilized, like someO̲ne who came
for a massage, & chained to pillars of a ba[ɑ]lustrade
with their gobs sealed with parcel tape
arrived a mite hungry, so I knife a slice
off of an icebox pie I came bY̲ inside
the fridge of yours, then eat it sE̲rved on
your high-cost plate
using your silver fork &
your table knife engraved
with a rhomb grid adornment
(some would think you're a perfectionist, like me when I undertake)
(rhyming like an Eastern person)
["ramen"]
(but, in accordance with what my mindset says)
(it's more likely you're just pretty corny)
(like rappers whose lines display their consumerism-governed brains)
(and whose body of rhymes is shaped in an unenticing way)
once the meal's finished, like a rival/fighter slain
in a "Mortal Ko[ɑ]mbat" fray, I leave your tableware defiled, same
as that pious place, in which ***** Riot made
a protest performance
pU̲t on, like that unashamed
co[ɑ]cky, a la desert soldiers
["khaki"]
autocratic swine that reigns in the north-east mo[ɑ]bster state
some high-octane tunes fro[ʌ]m a play—
—list of mine, then start to make your hideaway
[it's supposed that the EMP effect has gone by this time, so electronics are able to function]
look like it faced the wildest rave that mustered skates
who have, like a wrE̲cking ball
a disorganizing trait
towards stuff that's ta[ɛ]ngible
and are prone to territory-marking, same
as what's done by a[ɛ]nimals
or bY̲ street ga[ɛ]ngs
quite an effortful
jo[ɑ]b awaits your unlucky maid
or whoever you're gonna choose to invite & pay
in order to neutralize the may—hem caused by my stay
————————————————————————————————
such a misfortune you, A̲##hole
are away from your glorious castle
which is, like a brutal ******
that you are, looking nO̲[ɑ]t so
["nutso"]
glorious now if you look insI̲de, *** (ha-ha)
you stupid ****̲teball, ***** you, li̲ke bolts

Right I want you to put all your negative thoughts into a bottle.
What sort of bottle.
Doesn’t matter what sort.
***** bottle do.
Jesus, yes.
Okay I’ve ran out of room.
You’re so predictable.
Just like you last night, standards are dropping.
That’s because I knew you were coming for a session today.
Think how I feel, all my thoughts in a bottle of *****.
Maybe I should hypnotise you.
How do I know you won’t interfere with me, you read about these things.
Take my word for it, I’m going to send you to sleep, then I’m going to join you.
How does that help me if we’re both asleep, you got a bit of telepathy going on here.
Yes, I’m going to put you into a trance, see if we can find you another guy.
What sort of guy are we talking about, I mean, I’ve already hit rock bottom with you.
Well in that case, we should be able to fix you up quite quickly.
I don’t know, what if he doesn’t understand my quirky sense of humour.
He’ll dump you then.
What, can he do that, just discard me, and me a broken woman already.
Afraid so, but then you can find another guy, and another.
My God, I’ll be the talk of the town, my bottle will be overflowing.
Just relax, breathe in, breathe out, stop doing that.
Doing what.
You’re thrusting your chest out, do you know what sort of guy that’ll attract.
Someone like you.
You don’t want to attract someone like me, you want someone dynamic, someone who’ll take you away from all this.
Have you got someone in mind.
Yes, I was talking to this nice chap in the Asylum yesterday.
Why is he in the Asylum.
He killed a snail.
My God, they put you in the Asylum for that.
No, he’s in for using a flamethrower.
What’s the snail got to do with it.
That was the trigger point.
So what happens if I upset him and it triggers something and he goes mad.
It won’t, I told him to put all his negative thoughts into your bottle.

It's during restless nights such as these when my mind is at its optimum state

Where I am able to tap into my psyche to excavate emotions and notions once frozen like nitrate

I feel the temperature rising

Becoming irate

The flamethrower steady mediating while it patiently waits

It has me excited but also afraid

Like tight roping a bridge thats charging a toll I can't afford to pay

Or knowing I overdosed on a drug with no antidote

In order to coast its euphoric waves

Causing my heart to quit its job and my pupils to dilate

As Im dethrone from my throne and thrown inside a crate

To be placed to sleep for an eternity in a tumulus grave

But I smile because they see me as resting

When my soul is wide awake

Even though my body is stiffer then a new pair of shoes

I can spend all day seeking for the truth inside the truth

But I'm terrified of the journey and what I might loose

And the answers

Fearing the exposure and what it could prove

Do I have a halo or horns?

Or maybe both of the two?

I need to swim deeper

So I do

Until my lungs fill with water up to the brim

And burn with white fire hotter then fallen seraphim

But I continue to breast stroke into the abyss

Past the wine jars

The greek paintings

Past cities more lost then the city of atlantis

Past the treasures of the galleon of San Jose

And into the door way of what was took off display

And this will be the place where I will drown

In exchange for discovering what was never meant to be found

The tongue flicks blame like a flamethrower
each lick burns another scar.

In the backyard of eternity where mistakes can go to breed
there's a need for need and the needing needles me in the backyard of eternity.

I walk barefoot in the sand where once stood a king that ruled the land,
Ozymandias was always planned or is that something you didn't know?

And the roar of the waves drown the sorrow as we drink to old friends for whom
the day always ends
in the registration of another tomorrow.

****** XL - All Guitar Flamethrower Guy
Mad Max Fury Road OST Music Mix;
i kiss my cat goodnight...
**** me should i be found kissing
your forehead goodnight...
atheism would seem rather simple;
i tend to think of myself as the guitarist,
adding to the fact that i'm head-banging
adding to the rhythmic section;
and if you gonna be ******,
               you might as well be ****** with me:
K **** U C (https://goo.gl/LAI8R9)
and a leather crown on my head...
for added stretch marks
kindred of Pompeii goosebumps;
yep, and i'll be next to put a happy meal
between my legs to slice out
an Atari's solo worth of programming
and football and Turk vizier's backgammon;
like i ******* care.

Burn down the ice caps over my eyes
Your flamethrower love is powered by lies
Scorching the earth in search of the truth
I'm proven guilty without the proof

I search for the entrance of the maze in your heart
But the bigger journey, so far, is just finding where to start

From the hip
A tragic slip
Yet you still don't remember me
One shot
Not for naught
But it doesn't make me bleed
Like a fly
On your eye
Though it's something you can't see
But a glitch -
A phantom itch
Just one is all I'd need

We're free

You left me at the doorstep,
Packed all my **** and left,
You did me *****,
Again ,again and again

Ride or die,
I never was,
One and only,
Nope I never was,

You shoot your words like a flamethrower ,I barely finish my sentences,
You accept beating me,
Not once but twice,
With the sharp cutlasses ,

I don’t even care anymore because I love you,
But love should not hurt when I touch you...
I’m alone again.

Domestic abuse is never ok you should never feel alone :tel:08082000247