When I got into writing, it was mainly just a sex thing. When I got into writing, it was mainly just a sex thing. When I got into writing it was mainly just a sex thing. Because guys who knew how to string together a poem got me wet between the legs. There are some terrible truthseveryone has to face.

You know, I know. The devil shaking in my legs knows. White stripes in the wood. I used to think church. Was the place to feel the spirit. When my spirit was light, but. As I got older, my spirit. Looked to clinging, to hover. In the fringes of the bowels. Of the dark and desperate. Hells we call out nature. Tonight, Hell is on. Hell is a court with the.

Friday, September 20th, 2013. The pilgrim approached the Sphinx. On a windswept mountain pass. What walks on four legs in the morning. Two legs at noon and three at night. Answer me true and I will set you free. The pilgrim scratched his head, scratched his balls. Chewed gum, Googled it, blew a doobie. Friday, June 7th, 2013. The lights burn all night.

If you want complete love. A love that is total. Sometime it seems like you. Have no-one to love you. But I am waiting and. And I will be for you. So if your heart is polluted. If your love is tired.

The air is thick with natural vibrations. My body moves in rythym. I need to sleep so let yourself out just clean up your mess on your way. I can feel the air vibrate around you fingers. Oh! Equals one plus one. It all comesfrom a single pointand it all goesto a single point. Tiny white flowersfloat down to medrfitingfrom your tree of life. It is her shadow Her eye, her touch her voice. She, I am, is woman.