Upon his glottal’s larynx spreads a lingual deformity. Isolation as a result from tuggo disaffiliates. Misshapen promontory in the direction of upper-body inflammation. Not only above torso alone, location;head/injury;mouth/main informative;tongue.
The boy’s tongue was permanently horned. A horn of 18 inches shy, where taste buds formulate, he owned a lone spike. He wasn’t abraded by the unfoldment of onlookers around. His irregular attachment was a main confidant. Criticized, he was not welcomed by towns near. Citizen’s were baffled and disgusted, ridiculing him daily, he did not impale with grieve over appearance. Enmity he wanted and craved. Among the works of flesh, square inch niches, repugnance revealed. Revenge, revenge. Vindictive spirit shelled so timely and calm. Remaining this state of sumptuous integrity made him stronger each go about. These goes were so stimulus, adding to the *** of hatred. Deep into the tundra’s most vile he intruded. Went so every month or few, for weeks at a time. For this sheet of rigid earth so contiguous to the town made the worried weary, the skeptical seared, and the nautical not so knitted with directional sense. This was his consummation of gathering. The place of being a being. The dry winter amid eight months was restricted, so the moment a due mustn’t be bothered. He had his reason of validness for course. A rich succulent from the bearings of plant life on cliffs. Repelling an obstacle such as was ludicrous for even one born the ever so adequate and society defined norm. Now having a tongue with a horn, some sought might as well die to be reborn. He had to, to stay alive. The liquid, which sit so treacherous, was the mold to mouth medicine. To speak at all it must be attained. Not only a curdling death trap waiting to swallow, the boy had to get a plentiful amount for the hard hitting winters collied. His tongue could swell like the storms, loud crimson on the esophagus. To die of asphyxiation was his dodge of ultimatum.
While passing by a local television in a thrift shop-
“Today’s Newscast: Blizzards, moving in at speeds of 94 mph. Predicted to cover like a blanket for 12 months. Ice Age relative people, this one is gonna be big! Stay indoors at night, the barometric’s indicate that from 9PM to 4AM temperatures as low as 28- will stouten for the next year. Once again people, stay indoors at these hours, get your needs when available. Back to you Ronda with the quintuplets birth today!”
Plucked and grit witted he stood. He felt the trepidation of abhorrence swaying in orbit around him. How to emanate from this delay? At least five clones of self did not exist for him. Merriment struct pro, while the cons derived from which they know. Exultation when despondent, how greatly that gift could gab. Despoilment of that, he weighed options out. To altercate thick snow or simply, let it go. Afraid to die unrivaled, the off cutting is wisest. Since his first second to now he’s flourished with his horn. Obliteration to the occulted manifestation mannered as an antique replica of anyone catching him by twice by day. Remove it, remove it, remove if you want life in your years that follow. Remove it, ever so. Remove it, cut and sew. Cut and sew. Remove.
This plateau poisoned place stay calm, anticipating climate of tempest bold reaches, anyone who was anyone was not so. Negative degrees. How could he retaliate the opposite, while acquiring a surgeon field hay day buck builder? Eruption turns the wave of cons. An only equal precision, deciding, tonight is the night. To assemble the tools, publicly was questionable, no more, through. He will emerge to the lands and people a new man, sustained, and hornless. No more. From scratch he will vender what’s needed. Wood was chiseled under the last moon viewed for three sixty three days ahead. Uprooted vines of old pine will hold the bark tight. Breath revealing around the outsides of his appendage. Like a fork in the road, which way can you go, for him air strides both. Scuffling fearful towards the pike of the tundra, he is where wanted by none. A be all end all as you could alleviate ones slightest sympathy, the courage it takes, ****** immense. His sweat was not seen, but there it consists. One hand grappled around his earthly dagger, tongue positioned in an outward arrangement. Travail glowing all over him as an aura unlanguid with no disruption veering. Abound now, without great weight on his shoulders, he’s lived. Ascending keen eyes towards the blood bath around his feet, going both ways around the fork and road. After relinquishing his steady gavel, the checking of his pulse is counted. 5, 6, 7, 8, seconds, still life to live. For the very first ritual to come, placed in his mouth, the tongue. The rigid roof so unfamiliar and new he bestowed in his joy of such a common flank. The tundra felt warm as he inside let over pour. Once more a milder gasp as he vociferates to the last moon for the year. On his peak, and favored place of being, he let out his tongue. Sharp inclement so hawkish and frosted he felt. The lilliputian of no pain, heeded by first snow to wane.

the previous listener, who did so faintly and in a manner foreign to me, sat reasonably as I do now, or perhaps lain starry and jaded on some soft lawn riddled with the paused movements of those who watched, clouded with distraction, the life of a sweet nothing drown in descent from above as they cheered and screamed for it, for that meaningless treasure tainted by the vanity of their own desire, ignorant of the listener, of her own treasure then forming, as something warm and enduring in the seat of her chest, something to brood, to analyze, to cherish for a length, at great odds with the fleet and trivia that so dominated the struct of their noire.

but the listener had none of this, gulfed from the shaking and pressing, shielded the same from its symbol and write, opting to push for those few golden moments most certainly approaching her as the rest wraithed past, softly and shyly granting the scarcest and most shamefully starved of treelines, roadways and ballparks and wire staff, knowing but keeping that the few she would most deeply and fondly remember would be just these.

and so the listener and her lover stood past, sweeping over the artificial earths with little concern, not pausing or skipping for a moment to witness the wonder in the world around them and to soak up some indefinable fraction of its infinite offerings. from lain block to patch grass they strode, searching for their one moment, for that which so surely stood staunch and unmoving at some near point in their passage, but which always seemed to elude them, to taunt and hang and cackle in the face of their steadily growing contempt.

and then, as the crowd deserted their peaks for the safe and steady and trough, allowing those moments of elation to slip from them with ease, the listener let likewise all that was precious to her from her grasp, and fell into a similar place, one of deserted lows and recollections of the brightness that lay behind, of those very moments that felt their way independently into her heart and her soul, and left her love beside her, forever looking up into the dark.

This girl man.. Something amazing..

Her beauty was mind boggling..
A smile that could grasp the attention of every man or woman in the room..

Whether it was envy from woman or the lustful temptation from men, she always had eyes on her..

She had gazing eyes that struct you, making you fall in love at sight.. Trapping you in an everlasting heart throb..

A body of a goddess.. Luscious cocoa butter skin with thick voluptuous thighs..  The true meaning of Mona Lisa ..

As we grew closer to each other, I begin to notice something different about this woman..  Although she was astounding on the outside....  she damaged on the inside...

A beautiful sculpture across the room.. But you dont notice until you get too close that she is damaged..

The party girl.. Taking shots back to back like she was doing backstrokes.. Careless, no ambition.. Living life on the edge..

She says "I must advise you, I am stamped with an invisible warning.. Will not commit.. Despite my best efforts, I'm beginning to feel some small cracks in my faux finish."

Unattached, free as a bird.. Doesn't depend on nobody, & no one depends on her..she doesn't have peace of mind.

She was Untamed beauty..

so many people seem to be only limbo dancing...
fat-diagnosed                         meta-humans,
                   and juxta...
they the are scorn of a thousand
chinese labourers...
                      who later squirm...
    i forget what speaking english was about...
it's this carelessness
  that somehow surmounts the ideal practicality of it...
  it's somehow shadowy...
  somehow removed from all need to:
extract a core of struct cipher...
             long before the software makes
man his decrepit-self, there's
the metallurgy of the conclave...
                           and the is the minor statement:
if man is to breach a culprit worthy of being denoted:
a meteor.
                      prior to the hardware,
there needs to be a software insurgence...
                  a fail-safe mechanisation,
with us, imprinted as: beyond the death of god,
the death of sleep... and the capacity to dream...
                      nihilism revolves around retracting the
last ******* cursor...
                               all machinery rests,
it's a question of whether organic matter ever
    contradicts its inorganic humanisation...
             if i am bound to rest, then i bound to not
be woken from such a rest via a nightmare...
   erradicate nightmares, thus erradicate the organic
cursor bound to invoke...
  all other contradications that counter the
originally intent escapade...
                               if indeed $ is a symbol that is insomniac
when 1 - 9 symbols are used toward no signifying σ...
that there is no actual prefix in arranging a - z
as there already is, perfecting arranging the 0 - 9...
   with the σ being the more: well addressed... in being
                           what is the reigning smmation of
the symbols a - z, as the simply unknown cradle...
   so if the symbols 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 can be governed
by $...
            what number can govern
                               a, b, c, d, e, f... r, s, t, u, v, w, x, y, z...
if not Ø?                   emtpy talk...
                       0 is a symbol for negation...
                  say of 0, Ø: you get affirmation..
  and you can say as much as you want...
        it doesn't mean you'll get the proper mediation
of being nearly human in the endeavour, a mediation
that demands: losers and winners, paupers and kings...
    man outlived the concept of letters and words
having any worthy construction...
    anything worthy of collaborating with...
                 there is no higher grownd with words and letters...
   it's the five-sense endorsement man that's
at a loss...
                    as long as
  there's the fewest numbers
                        to posit, once the
              hierarchy of 0 is stated after the comma...
and the number of crude denials are mustered...
  toward the million-shared among the 1% and not
the 0.1%...
                  once the Tolstoy's opus is worth:
0.0000000001 readership...
                      and a poem is 1.000000000's worth...
    we'll continue with this warfare of symbol...
       hierarchy:
               the one denied by the many: is the hierarchy...
and the one acknowledged by the many: is the monarchy...
   somehow it was worthwhile reading Kant,
given he suggested 0 = negation...
meaning that 1 = affirmation, but that was the least
   bother for me to attest...
                       i just found
    disavowing myself from the argument of god
as befitting man: who had no standard in a termite mount...
or an ant colony...
                         if man was indeed prone toward
such perfection, i'd have no concern to form a politics at all...
    man, as a political animal, as an animal non-intuitive,
as an animal overcome with conscience,
  has no place in man: guarded by such angelism...
  coinciding with duty and fakery: for the worth of prayer
and an albino amnesia.
and never prone to intuition and a synchronisation of the senses,
but rather their divergence... epitomised with
sharpening them in the sphere of intoxication...
        if man was indeed prone to such perfection,
    i'd have no concern from a politics at all...
  man, as a political anima, as an animal non-intuitive:
as anima ego-centra...
    could be neither a tangens or an omni-servitude
divergence of all the species, on the palette...
esp.  wondering if he could be:
  insect prone, rather than bedroom fuelled by mammalian
        jealous prods into: ******* gladiators!
                          religion only relapses into upkeeping
this utopian dream of it never happening...
   of a congregation...
                    imagine the Koran or the bible in China...
    common-sense numbers of China said: nope!
               the Chinese would have said: me mongol,
and slaughtered each other... for the bride to be!
  i really didn't want to write this for a reason that it might
be made dogmatic, or kept for posterity,
or a welcome inquiry...
                              i simply wonder why we dream
of world peace, and yet come up with such
diabolical schematics as Jung's collective unconscious...
    and all that: as if dreams really did require a 1 + 1 = 2
rules of interpretation...
    and all our dreams where: **** or phallus dreaming...
protruding in the oven of being flacid, once, so overcome with
thoughts, than in dream, or Buddha's awakening:
pretty correct in being: full blodied,
  stood up to overcoming shyness...
                                     and at least said: an astronaut's hello...
     ego to hyphen, non-complex word... complex
word to Houston... why wasn't it mission Hermes 13?
     i don't think we should believe in those gods...
but it would make great strides in asserting them
as best in a modern vocabulary...
                              Hermes overrules Apollo...
               there was a message intended in that vanity project,
surely!

That smell is in the air.
The one that stands your hairs on end.
It narrows your focus and sharpens you wits
with just the right kind of wrong.
The hunt is on.
Should I rush in like a simpleton?
An ignorant ***, how crass
No. Sneaky, sly, and quick
easy and slick.
Lick the taste and smell that smell.
How hot is the fire in hell?

I've got a sixth sense for these things.
It brings a pain so low I know so very well.
THE CHASE! ahh...the taste.......
It moistens the lips with a primitive urge my ancestors command.
The persuasive beauties blossom
with tight skin squeezed between their cotton confines.
They beg me to set them free.
So innocently they burn down the walls I've built of love and devotion.

The notion has struct, the match is lite
A fire burns in my eyes.

the clouds were
troubling
her again.
but like a
roof over
her head, he
makes the clouds
disappear.
but caves and
roofs and struct-
ures and build-
kings collapse
even the
sturdiest
structures will
break. even
you will break.
but breaking,
at times, is
positive.
because when
you break, you
find those who
truly care
about you.
I care abo-
ut you dear.
darling, you
seem so strong.
but when will
the pressure
get to be
too heavy
for you? when
you break, I
wanna be
there. I wish
to see your
fragile bones
snap under
the pressure
that has been
accumu-
lating for
years. almost
as an "i-
told-you-so."
you will break.
I wanna
watch you snap
and break and
crumble. you
will, I know
you will. ev-
entual-
ly. and I
will be there
to watch and
to help. even
though I want
to see you
break, I don't
want you to
break. I just
need to know
you feel in-
side. do you
have a heart?
do you feel
things? I need
to see you
break; I need
to have proof.

This face, this phaze, this fus-if-i-can't-ation,

see me
the de ift sign
signed
sig
nift

ab
sent, not here, else
where

who were you up there?
up there
where

all this you and me being began,
who
were you
up there?

God.I'd guess, but tha's a cultural


con
struct, they say, God the way I imagined
since
I remember, until now

when you ask me a reason for the faith
in me
and

I say reason, per se,
the thing,
faith, itself as it hapts t' be in me, y' see.
I be letting that be my

answer, when asked
to give a reason for the faith in me, y'see.

"That is my wife... And this is what I wish to have... look at the difference! ... then judge me... and remember, with what judgement ye judge ye shall be judged!"

-- Jane Eyre


It was a cold autumn night,
When the sky is deprived of the waning moonlight,
The clock struck, the bell chimed,
You heard a most otherworldly cry.

Awakened, you rose up from the bed,
Surrounded by curtains rendered to a darkened red.
Holding a candle, and the key from the pocket,
Without a sound into the hall you went.

Under the guide of the flickering flame,
You walked the staircase, the saloons and the hall ways,
And the drawing room vacant of cheerful chats.
You scrambled, you quickened,
Running away from movements in the shadows,
The sensation of being followed.
The place kept a secret.
It lingered, it whispered,
Of a savage form with thick black hair,
And a red dress bright as fire.

But he assured you it was nothing more than a dream,
A feverish, delirious dream.
Wouldn’t it feel nice to hold his hands,
To be consoled by those very eyes, and say,
‘I will love you and live with you through life till death’?
It was just a dream, my timid little thing,
A creation of your pure imagination,
(Yes, that was the explanation,
As things were known to happen.)
You have exposed for too long under the moonlight.

It was not real, the dream was not real,
Neither were the seas and the mountains,
The country called England,
The fire of the white men’s Hell and their salvation.
The church bell rang and you said, ‘I do.’
You woke up and shouted when you jumped off the roof.

The clock struct two,
In the dark corridor like a stone you stood.
You passed the looking glass,
And saw the creature who haunted this place.

This was the story of another side.
There was always the other side.
(‘You are not feeling well,’ he said.
‘Madness runs deep in their family blood,’ they said.)
You came to become nothing to him,
A doll, a marionette,
A mad thing without feelings,
A disgrace to be kept secret,
There was only one way to escape this cage.

The clock struct at the dead of the night,
The hour of fatality to bring on the grand finale.
Holding a candle, and the key from her pocket,
Out of the attic without a sound you went.

if you see the worst
in someone
and everyone
you meet,
for so long,
it ruins your model
  in which you struct
     your self.
~
   ~
           no wonder,
you are what you read.

pessimistic blood bleeds
purple urch. ylck.

an optimistic heart
leaves blood with
    slivers of silver.
and it, like happiness
that floats of the
River Sanguine.

Hope you get back there.
Something in me
knows you will.

Where everyone's
voices around you
are better than they
are, they say the right
things in between the
blanks where their loving true soul shines through. a heavenly mastery in a godly forgiveness of what
that we are still left, no matter of the matter, somewhat, ignorant.
it's a blessing, as much of a curse.
I couldn't quite put my finger on it,
yet truth and belief are my key to this whole.

public struct Love {
    private enum Person {
        case female
        case male
        case other(_ type:String)
    }

    public let people:[Person]
    private var loveAmount:Int

    public init(people:[Person]) {
        self.people = people
        loveAmount = 0
    }

    public mutating func moreLoveForEachOther(addedLove:Int) {
        loveAmount += addedLove
    }
}

van Gogh! van Gogh! achtung achtung!
sir, did you take time
to reflect
upon being hit in the reflexive dimension
of reality:
yes: there's the definite article that's the reflexive
and there's the indefinite article that's
reflective...
                    if there emerges a refractive article
i will let you know:
bodies! bodies! summon more bodies!
non-responsive for the demands of oratory
self-serving pleasures:
did i? mention that emoticons don't appear
to have ears? i must have...
which poem? sieve through over 7 ******* thousand?
i find myself giggling at the idea
that: well: who could, possibly: remember?!
by the book and the glitches of: future noir
or: as in passing:
to leech off time is the only measure
of being confined to this citadel of space...
this: corrupt atmospheric stench whereby otherwise
a surgical vacuum of cold beyond ice
beyond measure of ordeal: where only pockets
of composite parts: mostly geology and gas exist
spinning on a whirlwind of re- re- repeat "no rhythm"
orbit...
strangely engineered: simply to have found
orbits rather than having settled for a rising sun
and a tiding moon...
but... never mind:
                      van Gogh oh: why don't emoticons
have ears?
mind you: is that such a nuisance in the abstract
of a toddler that
we sometimes don't pull at stupid and face
puffing up our cheeks: squirming our eyes or
ogling them prodding out almost
at the promise of an escapade from
the tortures of being symbiotic with the mind...

well well: i did leave a kind: suggestion:

                   ?               !
                           . .
                         ..

  all that's missing is, a replica:

                   ?               !
                           . .            (
                         ..


and that's: an ear          (
shoeshine shy:
moonshine bliss...
                      i am on the verge of expanding
my confined space to
alternative timings:
given that i write so vehemently and at every
willynilly opportunity:
and that i can bypass the editorial constipation
of: *** see *** ça:

conflations of rhetoric:
biodiversity is a prerequisite of nature per se:
spiders flies sunflowers...
by Jove and the jovial
monstrous motto:
i too dream about flying to Kenya or Nigeria
and becoming a hand model
or at least advertising: soap...
                      "diversity is our strength":
who's... this "our" without a "we"?

                   but sir sir! did you take time
to make the most of the opportunity to ensure
the sandbag brigade slowed down your
exit from stage so that
a fist pump could be adequately measured
and the coffin might be brought to
confiscate the Dementia Tor?

                  evil Rasp u Tin with that devilish
smile i do wonder why some
cagey democratically journalistic
phobia / aversion to will
                                        some ditto X monstrosity
of welcome opinion
or satisfying neutrality like one cannot
somehow clarify: collateral...

                  evil: well: at least it's not naive...
opportunistic: but certainly not naive
and asleep: evil: vilification of edible part
and some body...
       not this daydreaming ooh ah:
this insomniac crux
  that sometimes brings about "abuse" of sedatives
but in the meantime
a spontaneous gesture galore...

as predictable as any kind of weather:
being, unpredictable...
Oonglaand so ooh: the last prized asset
of this:
former...
            but if you're going to be a sports fan
proper you won't be a football fan
and you certainly will not adhere
to watching football drunk:
given:

by the time the 5th pint get's the kosher glug
of slit the throat by ice and carbon dioxide
fizz... from 11 v 11 idiots running on the pitch
you end up with 22 v 22 on the pitch...
how can anyone give me the fathomable
argument that sport can be enjoyed with
alcohol...
                         maybe not enough blood in
the sport(s)...

................................................
...­.............................................
...................­.............................
...................................­.............
................................................
..­..............................................

it's raining... such bliss cannot come
as readily: there was no planning involved:
July's rains in England:
i will miss them dearly...
one hurdle...

this i've seen in a dream: vaguely...
it's coming back to haunt me:

Game of Thrones: obviously i watched it
sparingly:
today i refreshed the paint in the living room
can't remember the color...
that same old, Faustian quote of a nugget
of gold in my pocket: i'm sinking..
the theme for the Night King...
haunting yet abbreviated to:
ears to a face:

   ()          no... not zodiac with cancer
walking sideways
instead Pisces afraid of the outer-world:
)(
                 immortal hands do not cite
Shakespeare: shaking the pear tree
a new serpent a Newton
sat beneath
and before the quadratic disparity
came gravity
and angels fallen
and gods as demigods fallen...

a year 0 with the advent of a Neu Demokratie...
the calendar year of celebrity culture:
best believe
to think of the dead and their unsolved
or pedagogic achievements:
i still think the curriculum could be change...
notably by the basics of
a study of biology:
how is one to: start calling NOUNS RZECZOWNIK
and the VERB CZaSOWNIK:
mianownik... etc.

          BiG TiMe...

            if not under the guise of the Niqqab...
or perhaps the Abjad...#de profundis in excelsior...
from the depths oh Lord...
make the vowels small...
keep the consonants CaPiTaL... imitation...

'WNIK... borrowed from wnikać: but there is a
unit of WNIK: inquiry point...
czas-o-
            inquiry into time: using verbs...
Polish grammar:
time-O-O-time: eternity standing like
a man and not lying like a monkey: i.e. 8...
and B that gave birth to it...

i feel sorry for the people in my life
that cared to love me:
i've written their state of being forgotten...
while i drag these rags of
the philosopher who saw the Gorgon
Medusa and plunged himself into the mouth
of the spirit Baron of Etna...
where fire and earth meet to make meat:
which is why: origins of us:
the air we to breathe: among trees...

seeing faces in things...
sclera onomatopoeia myopia...

there's no ego in the divination of consciousness:
there's no i in consciousness:
there's only the satan i...
that one that needs to get behind you
that needs to un-muddle your screaming
a pain and a scratch not really there:
ghost limb and with that:
madness and the ghost ego
ego can become fathomable from the madman's
perspective of the amputee:
ghost limb... ghost ego...
hence: shrapnel and schizophrenic voices...
whoever taught you that electron
make orbit?
aren't they quantum... quantum...
metaphysics is... or rather was...
metaphysics became conquered by the discovery
of quantum: physics...
i punctuated for a ******* reason!

god is not dead:
what is dead is metaphysics:
i give no platitude of authority
there's no governing that statement with authority:
metaphysics died because:
because Quantum Physics was discovered
and that was the death of "god" or rather ego:
the veneer of the secular trinity of
ego superego and id
without the mother-construct:
some bogus: some Chimera monstrosity
of averting our eyes from truth
a sacrele-gous: forget the spelling
i'll play dyslexic i know what i want to say!

solo piano soothing:
solo biolin? that's B in Spanish also a V
for? DAWAJ! DAWAJ!
DaWaj!
              
           quest for a despotic cure for all,
the evils of this world:
that there be a worthless priestly caste...
surely:
i thought that status in society was
non-existent: i did see through Darwinism
to the extent of deeming what
is question-worthy and what is self-answerable
and therefore defunct: swappy:
not in dire need...
not priest not churches no affiliations:
even if the Islamic Pakis think that
they are conquering anything in England:
what? the bad weather:
you have no stomach:
no matter the amount of dyslexic barrage

on Kauai: i will not listen to an ex-drug blah blah
DYSLEXIC pseudo-
let's all ******* congregate you
******* mongrel of a half pass as a Mongel:
you think?! think or "think":
Weimar will burn and give girth
to a birth of a superstar
and he'll be a failed artist and he'll be
my precursor:
my John the Baptist: ******...
and i will make this world a toy in an ear...
beside the hands...

the next ******* dyslexic **** wills
shepherding:
you... what?
there's an i in consciousness
ego: e.g. O...
who says that i have to begin to think with
iota and not alpha?
who says "identity crisis": best
i begin with omega? like upsilon is to omicron
hyperscript or downsizing in chemicals?

i spared myself jerking off for the day...
******* has become so bland...
so bland with her in my life:
i might be living in L'nd'n
another way to disguise the vowels...
imitation Hebrew:
'M SLW LRNR...

      it will take time: the Holocaust:
made to adapt...
apparently the Jesus was not the Christ...
and my idle hands have been summoned...
to clarify: caressing...
three flicking switches
and her **** juices are running: sweet...

there's no "i" in consciousness...
there's an i... but there's no: "i"...
eye: "i think":
aye: i think:
aye? aye?!
    
            faking a secular: religiosity:
where once stood: a people:
religion...
       their supposed conquest
comes with the same distopian
fervor of the Ancient Romans:
this Islamic quest to expand west...

  what idle ******* sand *******!
i call them by their best exclaimed
in Mongol territory:
idle sun-worshiping
camel-jockey
sand-                             -*******!
aRaBS!

                           no ice blue devestation
of envy: peering envy....
just the clarifying junction:
of: what wilt?!

      so much of history:
yet we have the Yeti and the botox ***
celebrity culture demands:
i did say:
is the t.v. our former self
of conversation:
akin to the fireplace?

   consciousness implies: but doesn't stress:
=,
           the fire is now the insomnia
and people have lost or rather
frail: be:
noun struct: some nouns
leaving un-availability of use...
to the t.v.

the moon shone: one day...
before it was conquered...
by bad reality day fathoms:
of this stupid everyday...

i see ice in water...
i see coal in fire...
i see air in abundance:
an absentee tree without a body...
i see faces in trees
like i don't want to see
faces in bodies...
with bodies...

              German intellect: surpassed:
but then it passed:
passed far far away...
and no revival came
and no hope, came,
and no faith: came...

came the Jew with Germanic
apologetic demands:
and that came... and... died...
and who knows...
who are the Slavic people
and why Moscow is paranoid
but it's a sign of health
to be: diligent and not so much:
a loud-mouth...
came the German with:
but we only allowed the middle-class
Jews:
who am i: are you? the pardonable
enlisted: choir?!

at least on Kauai i will not have to live with:
Jews, Muslims...
whatever the **** SPRouTS... blah...
they ******* Northern Irish Accents
of Activism:
their ******* murk of m'eh:
i don't want to be living among
people who adore PAJAMAS
in transit and fried chicken for closure...
i just: don't!

        these sectarian half Irish:
waiting to be more ******: distractions...
but i don't want to live among
Muslims!
do i: have to?
do i: have to?
           is this brain-worm of anti-racism
an escapist path do
i really have to? "you":
jaw-toss-half-baked-jew-from-******?!
seriously?

like the idea of a gorilla...
breeding with chimpanzees...
possible?
so advertise this: left-oid:
******* mess: less weaning: to not leaning?
i love races:
i abhor interracial breeding:
with: exceptions...
but to make an example:
to make a societal claim for progress?
for white girls to be given black husbands:
but at least no PAJAMA party
what the **** are we remedying by not
reading?!

so now, what am i? ******* PANAMA?
tough mess to fizz...
i'm just not that much hyped about
living with Muslims...
sorry...
i just want to get away from that Turban Party...
sorry:
if you think you can conquer the world:
believe me:
some of us would rather prescribe ourselves
the medical zenith of death
because:
living, with, you, half-baked,
stinking, camel-jockeys...
is... a *******: INSULT...
it's an INSULT to exist: per se...

                      i don't want to live in a world
of Islam, Christianity, Judaism... regardless...
i...
there's no i to be invoked:
it passes: it comes and goes...
but as an "i" for quest of "identity":
and with all the glorification of the art of acting
is somehow: a mirage?

there's the sky...
the earth...
the sun and the moon...
there are tides
and there are sinking islands...
there's the Polynesia and
there's a Lost Europe
of looking beside the horizon: of:
America:
the dictates of the Steppes
toward Asia and beyond...

i really don't want to have these sort
of neighbors who... are not even the who i ask of:
but some: mirage...
of faking: symbiotic endeavors...
clone closest...
i'd best be:
a hybrid of you-and-me...
but only you: but only me...
and that's the closest i felt:
this far apart...

           so the boa feeds: by a claustrophobic
constriction...
stand on your head
and count to 10 mummification...
if i were to simply die: the sudden: die:
without the morphing into death: a lessened
noun associating:
the only: by verb: spontaneity:
to die                           not dead:
to die: indefinitely...
not dead: not definitely:   unto the cursor of A...
without a definite to define definition of THE...