but whatver one...we ...do does dream....
there is a rhythm.
That perhaps is rare and when they get it JUST right as few did....
"sixty minutes ... dot dot dot"but... talk about of of their polluted blue
One..maybe two to team up... they should they would adore each other no one adores me .. i tolerate (the NOTme .. this aint me, never was i am silent stoic woodsman but the price of doing something or even love...is to CHUCK away your 'identity' if greater needs...must)
The Armpitite... or what should i nickname her? .. a true great wordsmith age 39 her words flow so beautifully despite being born in this fetid swamp of rockheads...and no education (OFFICIALLY no books - so few PAstyite kids were even bribed to read never mind encourage... thats why they're all slaves to the fancy pantses....)
" they all hitch a lift on..."
as she extolled upon
Tolle. Peterson...all of them ..Saad
Gabor
and they matter THEY sppeak nightly to your children even 31 year olds..
The Army..
thats what she must be she knows they failed
It did not WORK
all you have to do is meet any middle class person in the SW or those invaded The MArches...
to know all are cowards and none have any manners
NO manners i never met one (of 100s ) who do...ever
surely the PURPOSE of masturbatory therapeutic 'i am traumatised' Mate therapy...
pity pity me Mate
But at least one has a great mind - her God, Douglas of The Teatime despite being paid to bish'o'prick a direct line with the sky fairies...
well its ferkin teatime...
last chance
or THEY won
Me i am only ever energised by failure and Wasteland .. and bad manners towards me...
if only they knew.. they - their stuckness and bad manners... give me REAL energy - creative liminal .. even quite good poetical...
