fuck you. fuck ou l;APTOPS EAT A DICK FUCK YOU YOU'R an idiot, i'm an idiot , noone can be an idiot like me bitatch.

save the warm smiles for someone who cares taste my knee deep quick despair. eat my words for they are good.

never smoke crack on cough syrup,

you'll never wanna think again. everything else will be frigid compared to the warm completely incomprehensible glow of that moment.

worn out, and a bucket full of scoliosis. tired for the end.

on a transposition of art.

[[p[-[ [ =-p ] \ c cocxx;l[pozs=--sdoooooooods-0kd=-sd=====judinjmc

not fucking good. ferreals you fucking bastasrds climb into my aeroplane while i is in the bathroom and steal my profit? who cares i is fucking done i is fucking pissed and i don't care that aeroplane isn't spelled aeroplane i don't fucking care why did you change your unconditional environment to perpetuate your hate crimes through your language police let me go leave me allone, let me sink to the bottom of my own discrepancies. goodnight.

i hate this mess of life. no order any price where the fiuck did i put it? i dunno but if i did i would be happy. i am going to scream. do you see me? i'm not having a good day, and it's perpetuating itself over the course of my life. that i spoke and then had to type. no good i wish for my own schizophrenic panic i wish for softwear to recognize my thoughts and transpose them, to transcribe my spoken words and edit my poetry. take this responsibility away from me i don't need this anymore but i'm screwed to it tight. fuck you fucking stupid fuckin spell checking son of a dyke bitch whore retard. i lost money........ again. seems to be a habit of mine wish i had remebered b4 i started living again

jhyujhwe nmbjh bnjhumbz you put thos little red lines under things do it, cuz im typing with my fore jerk face. i lost a twenty bag. i dunno where. i can't do nething. 1984 is not some orwellian retro future. it is the year my sister was born, the year state catholicism died, the year i turned two and the year capote died.
thank God. fuck this paragraph. fuck you. i suck balls badly.

now all i gotta watch is what monkey do
sittin around in his own monkey poo
missed me missed that missed a large chunk slowly trickling down his thigh.

and don't even try to come back to me i don't even know what the monkey see but see i see what he thought he'd see, made all himself and then threw at me.

reflections on a five minute freestyle (my own).

everybody has to watch ghosts of cite soliel.

spinally tapped lubricant all out all in. fucking momo. you was right lisa. anyways. death to mark.

hurts like it's supposed to. everyone disgusts me in that light pain is my hexagonally scabbed forehead. it hurts like hell. i need to wear a hat starting now. weather unconcerned. can't change these clothes my forhead has been stricken with... what in the fuck are you talking about? you can't handle your drugs man and you are seriously boring.

sometimes i think i write simply because i don't have a camera to take a picture of what i did to my forterhaed because my friend sveno decided to be a fucking psycho. anyways never seen a scab like this b4 i am fucked but he, he is a fucking psycho. i don't like him.
nothing has scabs like my forehead. and i am vomit inside my shoes walking home after a few days of squishing it. i hate life.