quasi_sean

01


Sometimes, me, you wont be able to answer or even understand completely what it is that sits and picks at your brain like that apes that delicately select the bugs from their hair. Does it have a name? Does it have anything to do with making a movie about a guy like you, infact, you met him in the first draft of a shitty screenplay that would eventually become those who leap wildly threw the streets a t nuightas I sit here, my hands so goddamn cklose to the curious kissing of the old dchhol and sin...

tho mite
beat youherein the middle of this viuolyuen chip shos asoemwhere off the coast of
OOOOOOKKKKKKKKKKKkhawaiiggggggg

aallll jeezzz FFFukkkk eeeennn

thhhinggs nevvur goooo aaaaaway.

but tjjjjeeeGIVE ME OWNERSHIP OVER THIS ENTIRGURE DISGUISED OLD-WOODEN KEYBOORD MAD MMMM FROM THE SCARES THAt oklder used to write when books

and erveryoine enjoys jem.

stop thies nonsense...I will not have it here, it has gone on DSng enough What DDDDDDpending was

Did must
decide what needs to be here.


LOENLY TEARDROPS
FOR ALL YOUR
SAD, UNLOVED
ISSUES THAT
GIVEN THE
CHANCE I COULD FOR-
SEE BECOMING A GREAT
SONG THAT WOULD BE
TRANSLATED INTO FIFTY-HUNDRED LANGUAGES.

(why wont this stop? ....please)


COOLLLLLOFF NOW.

GODDAMN YOU RIMBAUD. And your idea of being questions.

what then Arthur? makes me a poet? you isolated genius. I want body that will break suddenly without warning----jump to the Oceobnside.

I live you Molly........Mol,ly.........had another agenda....but youire space-string is breaking, so there it goe.


dreams want more, David.

(Ill die before this stops...)