Thursday, January 10, 2008


3. You phoenix, you carousel

Cr Wrist released my friend's voice. Palpable she looked, as she crossed and elaborated herself, soon to pair. Moments got pieced together; she got pieced together, all mechanical and showing s.duper-id. Cr Wrist reads that, to be a Jew, one reneges, saying, 'I can remember my name'. Meanwhile, onlooking, I trip over the edge, like some nation of Arabian cuts, blasting. The occasion makes it more bearable. Currently, Cr Wrist has nowhere to go. No addition seems reasonable. I'm probably ticking myself; or I'm learning to live with myself as I am.

4. Down fot gravy

ally tex it up ars iv eard.shel do it for kix.til er fela finds out.shez got coupl on go at min. is news. via bev.but kaz told me2.she slut.allways new.told her2er face2.she stole my tony.las yr.hoo-er. evry1 sed im bk now tho i won.shel get her comupnce.allredy talk about.

5. Histo.Materialjism

'...Please, I wish to live. How might I live?' Put Marx through your labia. '...I have Popper(s), ideating on. Any good?'. Hardly; fit only for some alphabet of allegations. Insert Karl into the primal fuzz of your sex. '...I pissed on those men. They paid me. I did it for Communism...'. Yes, yes... But think only now of Marx as dildo, up the arse, round the rear, fretting up, no lube. '...I named my wife, Finland Station...'. On your belly; fold the pamphlet to your face. Do you cross-dress? I mean do you pose in anyway on crosses? '...I tend to, but without warning, and only in red rags as a bull...'. This denotes your starting point. Can you see that? '...I know only that, in posing so, I am baying for blood...'.


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