pray for the ppl inside yer head

-:-a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation

what matters most is how well you rock through the fire [shralp]

-It/s in his/ nature/ you know-

I met a vixen recently.

"What?" gulp,

Yeah, that kind of specter that incarnates every dousand years and only for the minutiae of a memory zipped-by on the freeway, shotgunned up there in some unknowable way.

"What?"

What? She luscious "if you know what I mean" in my head and in my hands. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to love her "like the broncos," his socks slip out, leaving must behind; rubber-soled, they ferment beneath his hairy calves, but my blood's all filled-up and I want it to mingle.

"Yahh too bad it won't work out"

Why not?

Why is is it so close so consistently? What is the gray area? What does it feel like with a grizzly bear and a mirror? "Englightened"

livedlike a fucking-Aladdeen

:: i used to watch all them all auld cowboy movies or even those kungfu movies and they would talk about living handtomouth and i was always thinking how sweeet and rad and untempered they must be but no it's balls and it's miserable and there's a reason milton wrote a book called paradise lost three hundy years ago, but don't call it a comeback