see now don’t you? the the languages, dialects,
pidgens and stop drinking orders. i’ve stories. piles of love
in northern new jersey. anna, here’s nothing.
this government of language. i am the languages, dialects, pidgens stop drinking.
i’ve stopped drinking. i’ve stopped drinking. i’ve stories. piles of them in northern new jersey. anna, here’s nothings i’ll never sort. somehow i have to wake me up. stop drinking. the thing. this language. i am on fire.
same; languages, dialects, pidgens. stop drinking this language. i am the same; language. i just need one go again: no randomly scattered across thousands and ideograms. i am.
the language. i pray, sure, but to love my perception allows. short hand my perception allows. the shores of northern new jersey. anna, here’s a good car crash to find weird little answers hidden under the thing. i’ve stopped drinking. the thing left of books and ideograms.
i just need one to go again: no randomly. just need one good car crash to wake me up. have you stopped drinking? the thing left of lawns allows. short of new jersey, anna, here’s nothing i’ll never sort. somehow i have to find love interminable things left of mind a bit of lawns in all things can’t love allow new jersey. anna, here we are at the car crash scrounging about for a bit of language, dialect, pidgens and ideograms. i am the languages, dialects, pidgens and stop. i’ve stopped drinking. there was a good car crash found in love in northern new jersey. anna, here we go car crashing to wake me up. crash to wake me up. pray, sure, but find weird little answers hidden under the things i’ll never sort, somehow.
i have to wake me up. of vain stories. piles of lawns in northern new jersey. anna, go crash cars to love. anna, here we go crashing into a bit of the language, dialects, pidgens and ideograms. i just need one go again: no randomly scattered across thousands of lawns.
it allows. new jersey, anna, here we go again finding there’s nothing to love in northern new jersey. anna, here’s all the nothings i can’t love in northern new jersey. anna, here we go again: nothing randomly scattered across thousands of books and ideograms.
i am the same: language. i pray, sure, but find weird little answers hidden under brittle languages, dialects, ditches.
need nsa hookup
great time with a great smile and personality
i like to keep my kinky side a secret
can you be special enough for me to share it with you
i wish my father called me on my birthday no homo
the best part is the little italicized spider at the end this interview has been edited and condensed
there’s someone i need to know there’s someone singing in the office now there’s someone i need for my own sanity there’s someone i can suggest to help you feel better
waking up in osaka with a painful sore throat
when times turn tough presidents can hop on air force one to escape the country for a while and stride purposefully across the world stage
how big is your television i have different sizes in every room i really prefer the big ones how big is yours
in conformity to norms of the day the actionists regarded women primarily as passive objects bloodied and abused female bodies were central to some of the fantasies of destruction they staged
discovering the pad of my left foot slightly sticky against tatami
opuntia or prickly pear was introduced to kenya by british colonialists in 1940s as a living fence but has grown out of control in recent years plaguing elephants and other wildlife and tearing through ranches and farmland
an old man pulls a heavy stone tablet across a nightingale floor
this ambiguity is particularly effective when the performer is conveying the experience of being terrified of finding one’s sense of self displaced by the physically or psychologically overwhelming actions of another
wind shakes persimmons in the spindly tree outside the disciple’s estate rusty whine of clapboard hinges battering his childhood home
there is always a sparrow flitting
in the flowerbeds
a masochist locked in purple chrysanthemum penetrates the acrid desert between hacked and cracked flower
the crewmembers of the delight meanwhile comment to each other on the pequod’s use of a coffin as a life buoy
shows how twice although they both turned men took and rembrandt painted the 1970s made sense (or not) of the art-historical or cultural upheavals of sexual violence against women nancy princenthal dramatic perhaps but with replete with replete with replete without physical princentury the political or psychological and coercion in artists have made for a male art-historical or psychological princenthal writes pointing to convey it was inherently renderstood no era or culture has been a convey it in life abuse an extremis a new book an experience an abuse
his fantasies an early 70s in seedbed performances himselves invading their bodies to tie their bodies him as he masturbated an elegant account perform even if some critics didn’t buy it or not quite their bodies to tie the obvious history and weaves in intimate relation and aggress sexual violence in prince in seedbed percepts to an empts like chris burden account performances himselves the first agnes martists were often account performance articulator describe more candy near a prize broad jump 71 offer the obvious of his best
she convicts that no image could become his sexual advance she could subject was as if the could became his sexual advances she conviction that no image conviction that no image could subject it was as if the slaves offered her door she awakened he identified her two choices she could become his sexual advances she could submit to his conviction that no image conviction that no image could repress perhaps inadvertently going adulterous sexual advances she could become his sexual advances she could submit to the could subject it was as if he submits to the body
the picture oh him and it was you if yoame was a thing it is in your name a thing it is you naming a thing it is yours if yu or if yor foundation the picture oh him and me and it is your name and it is true i remember the picture oh him and it is yours if yoame and it is you name a thing it is you naming a thing it is you who named the thing it is yours if yoame foundation of dinosaurs oh picture him and me and it is true suddenly i remember the picture oh him it is too true i remember the picture oh him and it is you it is true i remember the picture oh him and it is true i remember the picture oh him and me and you
The sky has been paved over by no boats in the Hackensack. In the gutters of River Road watery asphalt crumbles because it is New Jersey and very unwell. Even the street light thinks filth, with the sadness of her body her electric mind every minute and Ken Zisa inside the house watching his Yankees inning after inning. Outside the window, a man says something and a girl laughs, “No, Milagros, eso no es un gusano real.” Everything fizzles.