hormones & phonemes

he goes to the babe and kisses herrrr... for her dumbness and huge eyeballs... as he kissed her and then kissed me... with that darting little tongue ...and meanwhile I am thinking about

asymmetry, its essentiality, the asymmetry of a face giving it naturalness

those photos of faces made to be perfectly symmetrical: they looked like monsters

there can be asymmetry with a balance more perfect than symmetry?

as the golden light reflects off of a perfect ankle, I notice I am the sun and the golden light comes from me, and fills me back up with the golden light I am emitting

cool as a mint in bright winter

full of hormones and phonemes

a piece of laughter staying at the front of my head
as protection

I don't understand

why he doesn't write from his own insanity instead of through the guise of someone else's

poo-la-la

this ridiculous love for dysfunctional males:  "poo-la-la"... I needed to learn to lie down in the clover by myself, with the muses and absent presence swirling around me as pirate ghosts. the beagle scratches his mushroom-shaped butt in a spiral on the ground, all the dogs cock their little heads importunately, the foxes just slip out of the headlights: you can't ever get a good look at them. I have half a mind to have half a mind, the wind makes me layered, the markets are full of foods I can't reach and if I could reach them I couldn't eat them and they probably wouldn't be good for me anyway. A general all-round slipperiness, but without the bliss. Large steel sculpture with interesting acoustics, but I can't see over the top, and it makes me dizzy, but then, everything makes me dizzy, and don't think I don't notice anything, because I notice everything. Consider that a kind of arc, but I don't know yet if it's comic, tragic, or tilted, only that it's curved, and I don't know if the curve is pleasurable or uncomfortable, if it butts up against my cervix or reaches points of delight. Nibbling on the cookie of mortality, daily, until it is done, every last crumb, like winter covering your mistakes with snow and wheels spinning in furious squeals until the rubber parts wear out and I've run out of frownies and indigenous miracle oil to put on my scar, but I don't mean to sound pathetic since I've not been beaten by a husband when five and a half months pregnant so that my water breaks and I give birth to the child prematurely and then he threatens to burn down the house with me and my other children in it, and I'm not as far as I know being taken over inside my body by any horrible diseases and the sun is shining on the seagulls as if nothing disruptive had ever happened. Still I want to take you and shake you by the shoulders, what the hell is WRONG with you, until you see clearly the feathery mists in my solar plexus that you either chewed like jerky or twisted into long drooping braids dripping with salt crystals. I don't know. I rub a little sage between my fingers. The seasons are wrong. These loves are like ticks or tapeworms or barbed and tapered darts, they wiggle into the layers of my clothes, go up through my foot in the slimy creek, I try to pull them out of my skin like the swan girl in the movie but there are always more, and I can't just spin and spin in the stagelights until I have grown great black wings, I remain myself except a size O and in a state of drugged and gaping bewilderment, like WTF? Poo-la-la. It was so red and sticking up, I was afraid he was going to hurt himself. "I'm just working on my translations." The pile of plush animals. United: untied.

Welt

Deer, egrets, cows, calves, horses (playing), dogs, seals, hummingbirds, squirrels, geese (in formation) (honking), a black cat, seagulls (their aplomb!), a kite (bird), butterflies.

Cow parsnip, fennel, mariposa lily, tower of jewels, tea roses, orchids, camellias, bamboo, juniper, chickweed, iceplant, California sage, pampas grass, agave.

Breathing it in.  Now this is air.  It is like in Brooklyn there is no air.

Eating so many varieties of mush I am coming to love mush.  A feast last night of portobello soup with goat cheese and little bits of roasted garlic, a Persian dish called coucou (sp?) of parsley, cilantro, dill, and eggs, tofu pesto, garlic mashed potatoes, avocado, papaya, chutney, olives, mashed artichoke hearts with garlic mayonnaise, and pumpkin pie. Happy Festivus!

I feel a little like Frankenstein with this welt.  I took it on the chin, as they say!

In Brooklyn it is like there is no air.  I will have a big party and fill up the haunted space with celebration and bodies.  I am interested in joy (what's that like?). "Don't postpone joy," James said.  Sometimes he is very wise. Sun is glinting through kinetic eucalyptus leaves, I would like to be a dog today and roll on the wet ground underneath them. That smell. Pinched life of betrayals, begone.  Closed-in, morose feeling of waiting for things to get better or at least change, begone. Febrile obsessions, begone, unless they are amusing. I need an ocean to stare at now and then. Don't you?

Auto-husbandry: the way of the future?

in bolinas

waiting for my camera battery charge up and my hair to dry a little more before I set out on my mesa adventure. why don't I live here? I don't understand why/how my life evolved to put me where I  live now or why I am at this juncture or what on earth is next. was it my "choices"?  this, people, is the grand question. don't you wonder this? about your life? bright sun through eucalyptus leaves. Elia's art around me everywhere. ocean air. California. little red light turn to green, I wanna go outside.

at jfk

I feel like a piece of kelp
with a glass jaw
floating on a goth ocean
listening to sentimental christmas songs
unwillingly now I'm a cormorant
and they are forcing the songs down my throat
but I can't open my mouth because my jaw is
broken.  Stupid solo bird-kelp not oblivious
to the idiocy of men. Six geese a-laying,
presesnting their butt tufts to the aggressive
ganders: this makes me want to weep.
She's not pretty, skinny legs and fat cheeks, bug
eyes and relatively thick waist...I asked him
if she was beautiful and he said doubtfully
I guess. I look like an ash now.  Clothes as
smooth coatings for this depression, like
the red part on a bitter Advil. He won't
be able to focus on her either.  She "isn't an artist
of any kind," as if that was a kind of boast.
Bounsouaysana.  A kind of rotten pacifier. His
egolust as a kind of machete cutting swaths
into people, blind infantile subway rat, that
hunched pose, the cravenness of dogs in
fear, where is that bold-as-love love
that keeps munching my dreams? We all
fall down.

animal benshi

I can't embed it... but so funny...

can't chew

I can't chew at all. The only way

I can eat anything is if I mash it up

with my cheeks but my cheeks can't

do much. Dogs can't chew gum.  A

sleeping puppy can't chew on inappropriate

things. "What has a mouth but can't chew?"

When you think of a mouth, you first think

of people, but they all can chew. But I

can’t chew. I am full, I am not hungry. I don't

know how to chew! If You Can't Chew It,

Push It To The Side Of The Plate. The Media

Can't Chew Gum and Scratch Its, uh, Head

at The Same Time. Rabbits: My Bunny

Can't Chew hard Food? “Mom, that's silly

you can't chew on a Kindle.” Unfortunately

I can't chew at all! I thought I could manage

extra-soft bread so I bought some on Saturday,

but it took me two hours to eat. You can't think

because you can't chew. A horse that can't chew

its food can get impactions of the throat and also

intestines. . And pigeons can't chew. Alligators

can't chew! So, they have to eat large animals

together. One or two crocodiles effectively brace

the carcass in the jaws. Piggyshoe can't chew gum.

You can't chew these Gummy Bears. Yummy, yummy,

gummy bears! I've been playing again. Can't chew gum

without blowing bubbles." Can't chew through his last

pants...(uh-huh) for havin' blood on my 'gators. Dogs

enjoy chewing on things that they can easily destroy

or shred, some humans will chew food in the month

to feed to a baby, termites can't chew through steel

or lightbulbs. You can't chew tobaccy on that golden

shore, 'Cause the Lord don't have no cuspidor.

What has a mouth but can't chew? There is a

Yiddish saying that you can't chew with somebody

else's teeth. pyramid of hearts · i can't chew my truth

DAISIES · face the smile ...if you can’t chew it, you

can’t screw it! If I'm doing something very intense,

I can't really chew gum because I can't chew and

breathe hard at the same time. You don't understand,

I might look big, but I can't chew. I only have plankton.

Oh I can't chew that piece of broccoli Mom gag. You can't

chew the cud with beef on your breath and you

can't roller skate in a buffalo herd you can't eat

your friends. Your throat feels closed in. Babies

do not chew with their teeth, She can't chew

through the metal bars as easily as the softer

green grass. I can't chew the suckers but then

I couldn't chew the old ones. I know you can't

chew up a concertina, but what about using

a box cutter to cut it in half? Your throat feels

closed in. Then he breaks your heart by doing

something that hurts you so bad that you can't

chew or swallow your food right. Somebody

else's teeth, DAISIES, pyramid of hearts: I can't

chew my truth.

the abjection

of having a sweet potato baby food stain on my chin gauze

that everyone keeps saying looks "christmas-y"

Off to your circle of hell, you cowardly infidel.
Good luck with him, you slutty homewrecker.

the ordeal

Here's a fuller version of the story.  There's been a lot going on for me lately, good stress (a reading, a wonderful book party) and bad stress (I don't think I need to spell that out), plus finals and the confusions of doing something every night and talking to many new guys as a distraction from this tenacious brooding and anger.  On Wednesday, I went to my therapists', and we talked about how I needed to slow down and take some deep breaths and not be in such a hurry to "solve" everything.  After my appointment I stopped to buy cat food and groceries at the bodega. By the time I got home it must have been after 8... I spent some time e-mailing and cleaning up... I was very keyed up, very wired... and by the time I looked at the clock again, it seemed too late to make dinner... I had some almonds, some oat bran pretzels, and then I took my customary bedtime pills (magnesium, 5htp, progesterone, and a Remeron... a whole dose rather then my usual half because I really needed to unspool, and besides I'd taken a whole one the night before)... and then... sitting on the toilet... I found myself feeling nauseated...and dizzy.... I remember thinking, I'm going to pass out... if I can just get to the bed, I'll be OK, so I got up, and that's the last thing I remember


because I didn't make it to the bed... I came to lying prone next to the bed... there was blood around me... I wondered, did I get my period, after six months? so I went into the bathroom... and looked in the mirror... a gash on my chin like a flap... about two inches wide, and pretty deep, and I started to freak... held a towel to it as compress, and called 911... shaky... somehow managed to get jeans and a sweatshirt on over my slip... and unlock the door... and buzz in the EMTs... they came quickly... they got my coat and a few things... my phone... my wallet... my keys... swaddled me in a sheet... took me in the ambulance to Lutheran Hospital in Sunset Park... went through triage .. interviewed by a woman with amazing tattoos... they asked me what day it was, where I was... I knew... then they brought me to a cubicle in the emergency room... where I lay for almost 24 hours... many doctors came to see me... to ask many questions... over and over again I gave my history... a surgeon came to stitch up my chin...

I could barely sleep with all the monitors beeping and the constant activity outside... I remember telling myself to just pretend I was at some avant garde music experience... the beeping in waves... people's hearts, doctors' conferences, busy floor staff conversations, and sick people moaning miserably... I think there was someone with Tourettes... there was nothing to read... not even a magazine... I had no paper or pen to write with... I just lay there until the next round of doctors came by with questions... I had blood under my nails, blood in my hair, blood on my ankles and shins, blood on my slip... they didn't clean me up... I tried to sleep, must have slept... a little... they brought me a muffin... I had to take tiny pieces of it off and let them moisten in my mouth because I couldn't chew... so then while Thomas was visiting they brought me some puréed stuff... it tasted like meatloaf & mashed potatoes and candied yams... it was gray and orange... and I was so hungry it was the most delicious thing I'd ever eaten... also the Greek yogurt Thomas brought me... and apple juice... many tests... I mentioned them earlier...

and finally finally the next day they gave me a room, a miserable little room on the cardiac floor... and gave me more and more and more tests... I had to scrub off all the little glue marks from the nodes and tape from the tests and IV bandages... riding about in a stretcher... one transport guy actually tried to pick up on me... I had never looked worse in my life I'll bet... we were in the elevator... I said are you working the night shift?  he said, just so I could be with you... I gave him my phone number... I must have still been in shock as that is not my normal behavior... the MRIs I treated as an extension of the avant-garde music concert... but I was getting so sore from lying around on that awful bed... the nurses coming in to bark at me... and for some reason they put me on a "liquid" diet... pudding and jello... and I was so bored, and achy, and unclean... I didn't know if I could take a shower with all those stitches... I tried to wash myself...

I kept hoping they would let me go... and Friday evening Marianne and Jim came over with bags of groceries and a change of clothes... panties!  new panties!... and they entertained me... I sang them The Frozen Logger... my hair matted at the roots with the gel they use for EEGs ... and I'd had a cardiogram... seen my heart beating like some undersea creature... and I saw my brain scan!... like beautiful cauliflower florets... oh, I have the most beautiful brain... and the next day, I so hoped SO HOPED they would let me go...  and I started to put up a fight... because I'd been there since Wed. night and it was now SATURDAY.... and finally finally at 4:30... Mitch was visiting... they let me go home... never was my apartment so exquisite, never a bubble bath so adored... I made soup... took possession of my life again...cuddled with Nemo and Dante, and slept in my regal bed...

trying to push out the thoughts of anger and betrayal... that if I had not been so overwrought... so very sad... and trying to fight it... and if I had not been alone here... this would not have happened...

and the fearful thoughts, too... of how much worse it could have been, if, say... I had not come to... or if I had hit my head and got a concussion instead of "merely" a split chin and a jaw fracture... so OK, I can't eat solid food for a few weeks, but I'm here... my friends are incredible, really incredible.... and I...will... heal.

Home now

finally.

Outrageous

This is outrageous. This is my fourth day in this miserable place. The first entire 24 hours I was in a cubicle in the emergency room surrounded by monitor beeps, constant activity, fluorescent lights, and not even a magazine to distract me. I've had two MRIs, a CAT scan, several EKGs, a thorough sonogram of my heart, my brain waves measured, panoramic dental x-rays etc etc. The doctors nurses dietitians and orderlies don't communicate with each other. Of course all my damn tests are coming up clear. I could have told them that. They knew I needed thyroid meds and antidepressants but they didn't provide them. Yesterday a friend brought them to me from home. The nurse wouldn't let me take them, said she had to talk to a doctor. I said screw that and took them this morning because I am getting almost unmanageably distraught. I didn't need all those tests. I could have told them that I passed out because I didn't eat enough that night and because there is too much language in my head and because I am trying to do too much and fill up the awful hole in my heart too fast.



-- Post From My iPhone

Still at the hospital. Not sure how long they'll keep me. Almost no phone battery left. Room phone number is 718 630 8141. Boring to be here!


-- Post From My iPhone

I'm in the hospital. Passed out. Fell. Lacerated my chin. Fractured my jaw. Called 911. Soundscape: nightmare.


-- Post From My iPhone

HOME IS SMALL AND WARM AND QUIET.  BUT NO MATTER.

MUSCLES TIGHTEN AROUND BONES. IT DOESN'T SIGNIFY. IT'S COLD AND QUIET.  I WANT TO GO HOME

I'M SLIPPING UNDER THE DESK LIKE A PIECE OF GRAY JELLY BUT LIKE I SAID IT DOESN'T MATTER.  I HATE YOU.

THE PERFORMING MNKEY MADE STARS IN HIS EYES THAT REFLECTED BACK ONTO HER IMAGE OF HERSELF, BUT AS I SAID, IT'S IMMATERIAL: IT DOESN'T MATTER.

THAT MAKES THE ABSENCE PERMANENT BUT AS I SAID, IT DOESN'T MATTER.

IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER.  THERE IS A DOOR, AND HE OR HE OR HE IS GOING OUT OF THAT DOOR INTO AN UNREADABLE SPACE.

IT DOESNT MATTER ALSO BECAUSE WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO IT I'M EXTREMELY PURE. THE LAST LEAVES CLING TO THE GRAY TREES.

IT DOESN'T MATTER MAINLY BECAUSE OF THE SEPARATE SKIN FACTOR. I HUG THE PEOPLE.

I MEAN IT DOESN'T MATTER I'M ON AUTOMATIC NOW BUT HE COULD NOT BE MORE WRONG

OF COURSE IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE WE ARE ALL DISPOSABLE AND MORE OR LESS INTERCHANGEABLE.

Gary Went Nuts

Just like that, Gary went crazy.

Then they played for a while

and Gary went crazy with the 

Cheez Whiz making Rust

Monsters and things to

mess with the players

Gary went crazy when he

discovered Amber let her

boyfriend move in and take

care of their child. Gary lost

his mind shortly after the 2000

election and went on a killing spree 

but was not able to "make it"

among the elite in his field.

Gary went nuts. He went into 

an asylum.He lost the store.

But now he is back, back in a

blue pin-stripe suit with hair 

that would make Ted Koppel

envious. Gary went insane.

He started uttering various 

Pokemon cries, as if the game

was implying he was swearing.

This is the chick that Gary went 

crazy over.......wow....

Gary left me on a Monday.

He waited until I had gone 

off to work, kissing me

on the cheek and waving

goodbye, just as always. 

I didn't see it coming.

Then i think Gary lost

his mind cos he asked me 

for Chinese answers.

Maybe you should ask around

about the night Gary went crazy. 

over a year ago. Gary went nuts,

turned a bright shade of red,

Gary left me for some 

young filly. And if I ever was

to run into him again, well I'd just

have to give him a big ole …

Gary left me to plant the spinach.

Awesome I was playing more today

and found another vault where 

they were doing cloning

experimention and some guy

named Gary went crazy and 

cloned himself. Then we went

to chinatown to sing karaoke. Gary

went crazy, I think its more like, 

gary's gf cheated on him, so Gary

went crazy and tried to kill dat guy

but accidentally "killed" his gf.

Gary went nuts when he went

into the bedroom. He was yelling

at him to get “the bat that's under 

the bed.” "Gary left me." I muted

the TV again and said "Yeah" as if

I'd seen it coming even though I 

hadn't. Not by a mile, I admit it.

The general consensus seems to be

that Gary went nuts (or maybe he 

always was). My guess is Gary

went insane some years back,

probably when the first rapture 

didn't happen. Gary went crazy.

He loved it! Spent his free time

experimenting with other drugs, also.

And with that, Gary went nuts

and began to show me how much

of a man he was. His rhythm was 

great and I knew this guy was totally

infatuated with my body. Gary lost

his mind and has been on the streets since.

Gary left me for God. He's found the

church, and he doesn't think it proper

for us to continue our 'unholy' relationship.

A familiar voice on the phone sobbed.

“Gary left me.” 

“Good.”

PALL

The unspeakable tragedy of recent events casts a pall of fear and uncertainty around the world.

It seriously casts a pall and a really awkward silence.

The smoke of raging fires casts a pall.

The Cold War casts a pall over a family.

Yogi's Absence Casts a Pall Over Old Timer's Day Already Tinged with Sadness., casting a pall over jazz musicians as far away as New York and Europe.

Insider trading casts a pall over Tokyo.

Violence casts a pall over Brazil.

An unpleasant greenish tinge to blacks casts a pall over the darker scenes.

Deadly elephant virus casts a pall over captive breeding programs here for Asian elephants.

The transposed hatred casts a pall to the depths of their minds; they are accompanied throughout their lives by an inexplicable melancholia.

Smog casts a pall over sex life of birds.

The stench of the penned-up animals casts a pall over the memorial event.

A sudden incident casts a pall in Beijing.

A slow, dusty way of life casts a pall of depression and enervating pace among the townsfolk.

That fact casts a pall over some of our grand tech visions.

Global slump casts a pall over Chinese New Year.

Never knowing whether your baby chicks are going to live or die casts a pall of uncertainty and gloom.

“Emotional”/“physical” distinction casts a pall of apparent antiscience over our work and makes us appear obsolete from the outset.

Death Casts a Pall Over Trials, its little paws curling, tail twitching, brilliant black eyes losing their luster as the specter of death casts a pall over them.

Garlic Mustard Casts a Pall on the Forest.

Such doubt casts a pall over the questions of how is man to live.

Homophobe academician casts a pall on the whole institution.

"The desire to be significant casts a pall."

Tragedy Casts a Pall Over Armenian Ceremony.

Some things you can never forgive, and the darkness of it casts a pall over everything you do.

Financial unease casts a pall over marriages in general.

Often called the queen of witches, Rangda symbolizes evil, and her appearance on the scene casts a pall on the action.

There is something wrong with indulging yourself if it casts a pall over the team and irritates the hell out of non –booing.

The heedless puerility of it—not to say cruelty—casts a pall over the entire display.

It's the onset of hay fever that casts a pall over spring.

The whimsical remains, but a gloom casts a pall over the land as well, and the March hare, hatter, cat and mouse are discombobulated.

The tortuous, tantalising, thwarted object whose failure to be attained casts a pall of terrible anxiety over everything.

It casts a pall of unending anomie such that addiction is almost necessary to survive life’s bleak prospects, and yet punishes transgression without regard to particular exigencies.

Indonesian translation of casts a pall: menurunkan...

A mixed but nicely-written review of Scented Rushes

found and dreamed

my grandmother's ring

the big toe on my right foot had split... cloven... down the middle

realia

Flirting with all these men, many anonymous, distracts me.

Most of them can’t chat or court to save their lives.  I push their dumbness as far as I can, then say ciao.

Others are very impressively smart and wonderfully engaging.  Many of them are funny; it’s a survival skill in that environment. I’ve already found some lovely friends.

I don’t want to have sex with anyone at the moment. I just….

Sometimes I feel such all-encompassing rage that I can imagine my hair sticking straight up, and a glottal roar wanting to come from my chest out my mouth. HOW COULD HE LEAVE ME? On a cellular level, I haven’t yet completely understood this.

Sometimes the gravity of the sadness is such that I imagine myself a melting candle, kind of El-Greco-y, great bags under bassett hound eyes and saggy chin drooping into formlessness.  I think of the satiny texture of his hair. And then I want to roar again, to get that memory away from me.

My head starts to swarm with the projections of all of these men.  I get a little crazy, taking in all these personalities, trying to sort them out, all their variously abject and forceful come-ons. I know that when they take dimension they become something quite other than their electronic ads suggest.  Quite as my husband did.

Betrayal atop betrayal atop betrayal.

I have a cold and so made a lovely chicken soup that I garnished with avocado and cilantro. I am really too sick to go to the Sagittarius party tonight.  I hate not to attend a party.  My voice is deep with my cold, it sounds cool.   I gave a reading yesterday in this deep voice.  The quiet sounds crush around me crush into me as a chant.  Cars on street. Air purifier. Fingers typing.

I want to write a book called “Realia.”  Do you know what that means?

Often I say I want to write a book called such and such and then I don’t, but it’s not like I don’t write books.  I do write books! I can hold them, they take weight and dimension, they have a texture.

I changed my profile to be more mysterious and poetic than it initially was.  I don’t think people really want a lot of concrete information from the get-go.  They want to be intrigued.  It’s fly-fishing.  It’s true that there are a lot of fish in the sea.  My, what a lot of fish!  It’s too bad I’m still too freaked out to have a healthy sense of adventure. Healthy?  Let me think about that.

I seem to have lost a second gold ring.  First I took off my wedding ring, then I lost a gold and ruby ring because I’d got too skinny and it slipped off.  Then I lost another ring, an heirloom from my grandmother.  Also gold and ruby.  I have some vague memory of taking it off and putting it somewhere, and having the thought, “I won’t remember where I put this,” and surely enough I do not remember where I put it.  Is it the drugs?  The bereavement? So weird.  At the moment I am ringless, stripped bare.  I feel…plucked.

Plucked… and strummed… lugubrious harp.  How could he leave me?  The cats yowl in the foyer, chase each other about.  I put words into small boxes and words come back at me. He fucks a little goldfish in the dark midnight.  All is strange.

MARK

4/14/04

I thought to

well up, with clouds,

and that having water or psychological!

dynamics you were

such situations.

I walked

over me in this.

It really helped. Maybe

the dignified thing is to tramp.

I hate sweating so literal,

women so much and

I gotta

go. Tramp out because be like a term.

Us. What just keeps happening

over again?

And no doubt the

tiny chihuahua, actually, too.

I feel

weird, tired, but ... but... a target

city of that. I had decided how

good to talk instead

of concrete.

My

biggest fantasy is a kind of

agitation.

I said I feel terrible about an end.  Actually I

think I basically have

to STRAY.

My heart,

you are quite

completely effeminated.  It is

dangerous to say

that I might

have to run out for

a kind of color of it.

Means.

Meant? That

the city which

was physically blown out in our

cats, will not LIKE doing nothing that is

from your superego. And over and

over because freaked

out about

it.

Drenched in my lap

right now, just having water or

having water poured over, I think TOXIC scum,

when you would be boring

either.

Not really knowing what you would

feel about doing these things,

I talk. No

doubt the

world will dampen

you with you. Answer

these things.  I think

about that, this area just

a target city.

I just turned on me.

I had decided to

point where I

want to tell you want her.

I could feel totally desperate,

as stupid awful, that I can not

come home confront you

sidestep and that's it, although

I know

about it.

Moments of

joy in the HUMDRUM

WIFE. I could never be too cold because

I feel terrible. That just

meant why

you do sidestep and

want her.

I basically have to

live in my brain and

no hardon

means an

end.

To all human beings, especially

ones with me?

All human beings,

especially ones below, answered,

"I basically have to come home ."

I have

to happen, sweetie. Well, know,

I have written back and

will see

these things, unable to regain

equilibrium.

The state of this

is  you

get to go.

Tramp out

at moments of

these things, because I

feel terrible about instant vaporization and

I will carry you

something good to RECOVER from

someone else?

I feel powerless, covered

with me.  So good.

I was nice enough

to happen.

I am what I love

about an excuse, but tired, not that I feel like

talking about how feeling: bright, sunny, I will

follow soon while still inside

you! Would

be here. Right now,

too.

Get a

kind of fear for you.

What did with Jordan. Now

the walls address

our question; there were

so many to dwell on in

reality.

I had decided to

have told you, to

see a kind

of sex.   I will probably

go to see these

questions.

I love our lives, even

that way of revenge the world dampens.

I hate

how this makes me

what I just

meant. Why you would be like

that,

I think.

Maybe,

we should be meaningful. I think you more

than anything ... really

emotional!

vortex.

I DO this in bed with Wanda

pretty much

awful. I just

got a little animal.

I guess going through any obligation

or sitting next to you here will hurt

you, here.

My brain

feels productive, it literally

makes me think. Bodily. I am not

getting anywhere if there is a sexual

encounter?

No exception. How

you are a little animal.

How feeling:

anything wrong. With us. What I address ,

on me.

I think I was in perspective --

just got

a little animal.

How are

violent things

a while? Please! Begging you, even if 

I think

you gotta go. Go get them too, but,

well... sorry. But...

End her, how hot it is

I said. It seems like the

dignified thing to do even to

the forms

of creeps I more 

than ever am supposed to

lash

out at for

you.

Must

make you very close, all

this

little blackmail. You fucking prick

I ask you

that it will always

phone with me

because freaked out

about thinking, because no human

should be unable

to STRAY.

Sorry that would

be boring. I like

to know

all of

these things, about sex?

You

would make it hot and

her reading and look at

least the humdrum wife.

The smell

comes in bed, with me

in the sudden lashing

out.

I can

just draw a line

of intervention from my

reasoning.

It just makes me think.

I love that

you blame me

and our home, for

months.

And disgusting the heart that no human

should be

sitting in.

Now I stop, I should

probably will you with that.

There we should think men are

worse. I love

our cats.

Get home

in bed, with me?

Want to

so love each other, questions,

with clouds, but the way I do it is so

metaphorical.

But good enough, from you, here,

right now. I gotta go, go to. I do.

Any question there was traumatized, and whatever

do you mean by the bed with

whom we will see these things?

"I feel?" is

gorgeous.

I hate this computer screen

to respond to the rain

in the desperation that drives the forms of doing.

Especially when I could

feel that that would be boring

and incredibly ashamed of this.

How to

see these things. But my heart.

My lap right

now.

My makeup.

I will

always feel sick. Right, but

where will I take the

unprecedented step of agitation?

I  should

maybe happen. I thought

that YOU started

up and over and

pillaged my heart and that

would be over, and

feel quite completely

drenched in sweat and I

think I know that

you get rid of intervention from

I guess

not something

very serious.

Not blue, the

world dampened  -- what happened?

Why was she suddenly so much

that role? I love this feel

because no hardon means

so because ...  be

here.

OK, my turn to do pretty things.

Sure that was thinking about her?

You started while

still keeping your

corpselike body here?

I think intense daily desperation

drives the gesture. Would be QUIET about what I

get enough of and I deserve that there,

actually. You understand

the heat.

I think about her? How

it is really good instead

of these things.

I think men are her. Some of them.

Quite completely drenched

in the forms of fear for you, so you

would make me

STRAY. I

think it up,

again. And the

fantasies, eek! I was to

suffer from that DEMANDING.

Going on? The most passionate

Arabic song.

You have to

be capable of concrete.

Why will she feel

sick and incredibly ashamed

of anxiety,

although I have to

come back from your

head?

I need  some things worse. I

think you do too. But...

but... a sack

of having been sticky and rubbed leaves me

what you think -- as that.

At least the smell comes in good

enough, and I of creeps am

thinking to feel sick now --

I was paranoid now.

Most important, the most passionate Arabic song

makes all the

weather

underground ...

Psychological! At least at least the

fact of that drugged expression.

Such utter sweetness, I walked over and feeling

bright,

white, not clouds,

or sitting next to threats do

love you. Muggy.

Get

a literal papillon; women

so love this.

I just ignore

it.

Of course it's so much and

rubs/ leaves

me OUT?

What

you put you put here, right now.

Then a line of intense

daily desperation drives the

walls to some address

in my brain and the

rain.

I hate this,  I basically have

points where I think

about you

even in water,

but please! Begging

you, very much, and absolutely

blindly.

I might

have set off in writing,

onscreen.

I think that you are with

me for my butterfly shaped

ears...

... masking any question of revenge.

Toxic scum, toxic scum,

toxic scum, tresspasser, marauder,

querulous emotional vortex. Saran wrap

of joy that helps this. Why,

the walls attempt to

have told you, and

even worse.

Get enough

sleep, still inside you!

I need to complete

like that, I

love our lives, even in

waves. But I began to

tell you something, that it

was simply weak

because unlike her --

and our home -- for a

little angry while I was

her to dwell

in.

The dignified threats

do hate the humdrum

WIFE to cry. I do

this weekend.

But

something about revenge, how the world dampens what

must go to get rid of

them. I am

really good to say

that I am not even

the  kind the beer goddesses know is

dangerous. I

start to have the color

of revenge? The world

dampens what I mean.

Get rid

of concrete. "Why" was stupid,

psychologically, right now, some

sleep still keeping up your

superego.

And I feel,

you fucking prick, that

in me, what feels too much like

that, behind what goes

on.

So, incredibly ashamed of

creeps, I walked over and, unfortunately,

pointed to where I

know I will have always been.

Get enough

now and leave me

a little bit phallocentric.

Nothing but bodily

nice enough sleep, probably because it just

descends on me as

a kind of fear, for

overinterpreting.

Why the kind of

suicide, work, and whatever?

You know what

you know even if there never is talk about it.

I was thinking of this

spinach, carrot, and celery somehow,

that you more

than even that

would be, like, rendered

inarticulate now and heckle

her.

I know it

bodily was

stupid, or was

physically blown out of

revenge -- the time. Blackmail.

I think --

I suppose --

I feel them. But

where I think

TOXIC SCUM,

you leave the state

of intense daily desperation driving

the sky's right particles.

As I do any

dog called a type of

dog called a

constant torment: better to

dwell in writing, onscreen.

Not getting anywhere if it makes me

what I know.

I have an excuse,

that it is dangerous to shutdown.

That world dampening what you like

because unlike the smell

it comes

in bed for a movie

together.

Be QUIET

about prosody when

more than ever

you are supposed

to dwell

in sweat.

Followed that

and pillaged on behind.

What I never was.

Her capable

of what I

just turned on your head.

When you

send me ... psychologically...

I am not UGLY. I

was just when

you gotta go.

To call her. Life

is I guess going to respond to a

sack of sex under the

tiny chihuahua chain to make things worse.

Enough from our

life together.  I

am on earth, more Bollywood than even you now.

How to well up, again, maybe the city

is covered with Jordan. Now I think

men are

intimate, are violent things because

close -- 

and I was -- 

I am --  sitting next to the rain.

Lately

he loves to do some agitation. I

have to something to her, bring someone

home.

Speaking cuttingly,

banging against a call to

her, a call

that no doubt was so metaphorical.

But

why

the color of the

sky

right now?

I feel awful. That chihuahaus

do this makes things worse.

I hate the various forms of mine.

Are you the answer to

these things, about doing nothing?

But I think I do

something good and hungry and muggy. I drink

this morning, lying in

fear. For months.

OK, my intestines are getting what

I love about prosody while I am supposed to play

with me. But... drinking water I do

feel is totally desperate, a type of the

various forms of sex.

Now,

I said,  at least look at

the beer goddesses.  They know where they are

intimate, are

intimate, are her although

I think you left me

one thing to just keep happening

over and over again.  Today, as that

was traumatized and

shrinky, you started up with the clouds,

unable

to enter into

a complete shutdown, especially when I

went out to hurt

you. It could never tell you

what to happen, sweetie. Well... sorry.

I can be boring

and heckle her.

I do talk.

The emotions begin to get rid of

suicide.

Drinking water poured over

that is all we need

to know to

have any focused

way with them.

The smell comes back, and I

get a call from her. More

than ever forget that. Especially, when this

heat is sorry that you very much

and I have to be

me. Crazy.

I think I have to

address you very close and it

means so much or even

MORE than what is most

important.

You in

the screen; I

really emotional! vortex.

Saran wrap

of revenge? Toxic

SCUM. Tresspasser, marauder,

querulous emotional

vortex. Saran

wrap of the beer goddesses. 

The beer goddesses

know that I think they were

there all the time.

And all

human beings, especially ones below, answered.

"I lacked,"

which makes me

while Please! begging you, understand

why. You would be sitting on any

revenge including

the HUMDRUM wife

FROM your head

I hate

the influence, right?

But bodily, I will

feel terrible though maybe

better than ever imagined.

Happen.

I have to happen, sweetie, Well, sorry.

The fantasies --  eek.

I never liked

her, I have to live

in this. Speaking

cuttingly, banging against a movie

together.

Do you get enough to

regain equilibrium?

It was faith, in that no

hardon means an

excuse, but ...

but... it is gorgeous, and look

out about instant vaporization and feel

for its butterfly shaped ears.

I was simply weak because

such a little animal.

With me? As the tiny chihuahua

chain would be like the

monster, I drink

this computer screen,

to do something. I have

any of the various

forms of

this pillaged on an excuse, but I

ask you,

will you see these things

about her? Reading

anything in

a sexual encounter?

That drugged

expression.

Such situations.