Saturday, November 24, 2007


911 gone for your disease ,brother.
Toiling up your cup of sorrow,healing in the sense of drewerman
Deepest sea of red,washed away my shallowest inner blue.
Striding main street of Cambridge ,still falling gently into crotches of jewish girls.
Annihilating bills of your disease bills brother; 911 is never enough.
My uniform is homerun wear for intellectuals in the third inning.
Asset management fucked from behind for no children ,abandoned for real fruits.
Words in no order.telepathic chains alike foamy waterfronts of maine.
I am leaving the old land for the old land ,loving her for hating him,
So cold here.
So hell here.
,merci me Bitch.

Life is Over in roughly 3 secs.

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