I’m a barren tree: the untouchable object; a sports piece.

in support of the cited: next witch goura; uhm yeah;

dedicated to my brothers; vincents

My plain curves stained me free;

without the pretense of survival I am surviving until

g’s assault with trigger trips of machinery.

it’s a virtual attempt at my murder; before I can move; and not because I am necessarily a baby.

My new hat is a porsill ; and it coats many of my thnning fingers instead of leaves and flowers;

it makes me have to makes me have to lest effort; in a break

from wreaking dip conditions. it’s about exercise for hill-el.

 

part ii. fiction to post: my name is not hill-el my na m e it’s a flower’s name that I may never turn to ; screwdivers and not drivers are my recent memories;

and I don’t drink; my curly lox don’t belong on bagel’s pacers and I didn’t know that was a joke of prejudice; because I’m not jewish or hebrew; like we were first taught; before the hole.

I do know hebrew and so maybe because you are really really really; and there;s a rally;

dumb; you don’t know that knowing hebrew doesn’t cement one into the faith; of judaism; or does it. without being jewish; how un-acknowledging knowing is pre-enlightenment; if I never turn into a flower;

at least I can become an object you can’t touch: the untouchable object. I line I drive and I pick. It was hopeful thinking; a goal not necessarily directly aimed at just you know one connected to a more direct one: beauty; which I never Lost;

all you have to do is control lust; and you can be beautiful too; like a really nice kit of lies; that you use correctly; like that; that’s being beautiful.

part iii. you know not all girls or any girls women at-the Bars; are her or were: ever; the cure is to drive; for her I mean the cure is; a vehicle really rally. cited: the cure

part iv. in the coincidence of enlightenment: does hill-el actually mean flower, the xoxoxo meta-tron without the strong we wilt like flowers that newer formed to never.

cited: p. pan

part v. what’s the diff. between a rainboot and a pot for a plant-tree, plant: the tv; so pock to v.

IMG_20170413_124130[1]

 

the kali o, men

[at least you haven’t lost any of your power; some solace; in death.

all  you are a little burp that’s going to die. is a.

oh the bench is in your path; give her a dirty stare; and if she won’t let you stair; rape her unto the death. but at least she gets to keep her power, right. ]

I love flower shots. int arm make the eyes blink floral right now it’s white; will it change, colour;

how blah; the last part; excerpt green objects.

I like green objects: rite now through sires. Like fan blow sires.

[the hole-thing; in case it was un-seen; still.]

IMG_20170413_125359[1]

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