some problems today, practicing scat Like it's a game of how much you can keep in your head, together with everything from yesterday and at the same time some broken chronology, vile vowels, I got your poopy cock right here; Blackbird singing in the dead of night to the bowtied bowel broker.

Loredo, Texas is filled with meat. Manitoba Province is filled with fences. The magazine shop is filled with paper. But what I am interested in is all the beds in the world. If I can't have that, then I'll take every bed in some square mile radius. Ain't no bed but my own.

The worst thing a person can do is get excited about someone's else biography, before finding inspiration from a dead tree branch. The worst thing a person can do is think that they are inspired by a tree branch before reading a biography of a dead person. Some human ether form gas-masked smoke-filled vaccum tube, blood sausage kind of thing, needs to sneak up on you. That's called feeling or Being touched by the glass finger.

The participation is either; I am wrong and happy, or I am right but wrong. Silly person emotes the gender on the righteously lost. Headlines read. Magazines fold, are sold. Fingers sell jewels. Don't blame the soul, sleeping. Get glassed.  ¶ 11:14 AM