2002013055786694533458 - 164458893665741258

>>>>>[�Dunno 'bout Italy, you know Italian? I suppose someone with your particular skill set need not worry about language when you have the skills inherent in one of your own particular genetic make up�they told me yesterday, they told me she has a mental capacity along par with the speed of a viper, the intensity of a couch-burning, and the velocity of distance over time�fucking doctors man, old guys in lab coats spouting this? Velocity goes for big space; friend of mine once said that. We were younger then and more naive as well. Days were longer and we would dream of something greater when we were older...]<<<<<

>>>>>[�eeeeeeeee found them last night Claire, we found them huddled against one another, trembling in the rain, their coats damp and eyes glistening...they were terrified when we drew up close to them, soft and pudgy, quaking all over, their eyes locked in ours, squealing the whole time�]<<<<<

>>>>>[�his weather, it is upsetting the ecological balance between my (legs) lower and upper hemispheres�my tides have all run out to sea�i drink as quickly as the tap draws, but there's never enough to quench the floodplains within me...i think that in some way we are all yearning for a sadistic release, a certain�how do you say�we are yearning for the acceleration of things, things that happen�give us rains of frogs, give us floods and seas parting, burning bushes proclaiming the sons of god and their warrior tribes of blind Phoenician slave girls�]<<<<<

>>>>>[�Give us The Magdalene her cunt swollen and her breasts aflame! Give us the blade and the axe, and clutch us close to her breast. Heal us queen of whores, mother of the workingwoman. Pull us close, into your depths, into the darkness we crawled from kicking, screaming so long ago. Envelop this world in the sweet, hot embrace of your sex and wring it dry like a spent sailor�]<<<<<

>>>>>[�With the heat and humidity, we embrace, we make pools of sweat in the moonlight rising like the swollen mango moon�seems you could reach out and pluck that fucker right from the sky, over-ripe and full of slick sweet juice like syrup, like...yeah i think this weather is affecting the psyche�Armageddon? Nah, more likely rutting season�set in and as the lilies bloom, so does musk fill the air�stirring the loins of the new world, urging us, urging us always�fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckeatsleepfuck�]<<<<<