unmitigated treaty. their indifference included in their digital speeds. while those kids lie in bed without a cup of bullion in their head. also kill the children, american you shootful. and the murders you plant in your own backyard. keep insisting your democracy. but in the starving darkness, those sad, lost eyes know the truths of your lies that you sold all the marbles in their little sacks to the bullies who applaud because they won t give them back. you have stolen the bread that cried from their mouths and turned it into dirty dough. when finally they manage to fall asleep, their dreams cause you the haunted house. the spell of the sun to burn you down so that greeds flee and steal the good things for hungry little bellies to eat. between the page, with the heart and the mind, wrestling upon it. and the year which later will receive those limbs of light as perfect harmony. there s a stillness who s volume speaks word of words defiant. treasures of the unstable. secret
v-neck tee shirt. nothing. just wondering about the dress code. where your dress pants. you look hot in those. did you see my ring? i swear you would lose your head if it wasn t attached. this was my mother. i wondered if her death would release me or if i was doomed to norman bates territory. he will be here in five minutes. half an hour later, after i squeezed. we were awkward as wall flowers. the lamp was already blazing with intensity. my growing hard on he seemed amenable. he got cold feet? may be he lost interest. ben shrugged. who knows. i would be with us in the second. i am serious. don t you feel abandoned. it s a three way honey, i don t think two people can feel abandoned. he might be late. i looked at the clock again. 25 minutes. only hustlers can get away with that. he s not a hustler? ben turned and looked at me. you think i bought us a hustler? how pathettic tic do you think we are? i sort of felt like he targeted us. i didn t get that sense. may be i m wr
b. the innamong the flowers. it doesn t mean anything because it was camouflage night at the full moon saloon. we felt compelled to tidy up. and reaging toilet. you force him to shower. we stashed it in the closet. he grabbed a razor and headed for the stall. you better be faithful about it. it s down right inhospitable. he was dressed in a while, v-neck tee shirt. nothing. just wondering about the dress code. where your dress pants. you look hot in those. did you see my ring? i swear you would lose your head if it wasn t attached. this was my mother. i wondered if her death would release me or if i was doomed to norman bates territory. he will be here in five minutes. half an hour later, after i squeezed. we were awkward as wall flowers. the lamp was already blazing with intensity. my growing hard on he seemed amenable. he got cold feet? may be he lost interest. ben shrugged. who knows. i would be with us in the second. i am serious. don t you feel abandoned. it s a three
enchantment and the never ending gathering at the lips of the kiss of poem. now, [applause]. now, i understand them causing an enormous amount of anguish of my voice. i brought my girlfriend. she is going to read 3 poems to you so you get another dimention of my voice. please welcome, agnes ford the house of the setting sun. the comrade again and the poorist way wave you. to the red flag. i put my mount to your misery new orleans. here, war lies piles so high. this floating prison of a cementary cries of range. this delta lies on its side. rows and rows upon it s own government and crushed. summertime is over and the living is dead. and around midnight all hopes are looted. no one will ever come clean of the katrina of the new orleans and the stinking house of the setting sun. but it s the black and the blue of the loving on the shoes, let alone a dime or water, america, you are always scotched earth in our mouth. always a rain of disaster of streams of our broken eyes.
of those extra touches that mean a lot. he stared down at this offering. it don t look right somehow. i know. especially with a condom on it. he cleaned up at the sink. he started gathering up his clothes. hang with us for a while. busy day tomorrow. my other job, bacheloret party. i strip for private parties. that s what this is for. he was stepping into his fatigues. apparently impressed. it ain t worth the bus fair half the time. patrice shrubbed. if a sister has a plate of ribs, there s no way to held her attention. ben and i laughed. i m serious. tickled to his response. i am up there working my ass off and they are sitting down there with their press on nails. tough crowd. they say they like the mens, he drew out the last. but they don t like the mens like the mens. they don t tip as good either. he came to the bed until we came his naked book ends. he laid there for a while. be well my brothers. he said at the door. [applause] good even and welcome. jack hirschman. h