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Excerpt from Ninety-Six Percent…

How did this house on Grace St become the temple?

Reports differ according to his birth. One says he was born in the James River; others say that he was concived by a virgin. Although his mother was not a virgin. She just didn’t have with his father. In either case until the age of thirteen his religion was a tent traveled across the dessert of the nation.

What was enshrined at the temple was his sexuality, which God gave to him in his ‘Shower of Power’!

He was most definatly muslim:
-his is the tale of two cities
-he wholly submitted himself to God
-he prayed not just five times a day, but at every instant
-he understood that everrything was to be read and was a sign of God.
-he recognized that Mohammad was his Prophet and so was everyone eles. And that Jesus only really brought a bunch of clay pidgiens, none of them could fly.
-God spoke to him personally through visions which he recived through materbating and he interprited these visions orally. He atempted to write them down, but his success was marginal.

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PRISON SENSATION

A sound that runs thru every cell.

the bodies that yell at me.

Sweeping I want to go to some place weird that I’ve never been before.

How about that? 

A good man is sick. 

I just murdered new emotions 

He was an actor happen everyday 

In life. 

Only write. All authors (whether real or unreal) only write about what they know. I write about whores and lies.

CLONING AND THE FOUR TYPES OF SENTENCES

From the seat of my Imagination,… 

He is already what I need him to be. From a glance and extrapolating gestures, I have made him my dream. 

The model-form in your eyes I can study. 

Every word has been called from my soul. 

You can fuck my mind. 

Wrote and now write. (what do you “do”) 

A simple sentence is the body.  

“your much too in love with your words” 

I need to come to a greater understanding, in the sense that all must be informative. 

I’m a liar, you don’t want to be in love with a liar. You deserve happiness, I can’t make you happy. It’s wrong to play games with peoples hearts. 

HERE I WILL BEGIN TO BREATH LIFE INTO ANOTHER BODY

Whether It’s In His Mind Or Mine

.Past my body is 

.Behind you dangerous; I’m 

loaded, cocked 

(won’t be) Coming around. and ready to 

shoot. 

ass of champions

My Subject

Painting Carving 

Drawing 

Sculpting 

Taking a picture 
The clothes you where.

The way you mess your hair 

The scent of boys, riding through the air. 

At the end of the row in the final booth, he looks straight at me. Up and let his lip fall agape. Violent green eyes framed by a chin strap on his relatively square face. A mole I think; and a blue shirt. 

Looking back,… 

With your ring in your ear sing

THE NEW-NEW

memorize my lines as I read them 

I realized I was beginning to be. 

 

This, The One Thing My boy friend 

I still want to have is right 

A seat… behind you. There. 

Since this is one of my last chances, 

I want to note the exact color of your eyes. 

Green, but an autumn green, 

Brighter than hazel. More 

enduring somehow

Saving the Dung Beetle and Why I Want to Be a Fireman.

A new dangered species. Habits: who; what dung beetle underfoot; where crushed during; why fire operations; how when not only put out the fire, but the lives of these poor dung beetles. Childhood memories: shiny red engines. My father was one other early “dung-conscious” firemen. He began the Fraternal Order of Dung-Saving Firemen. All this really looks nothing like what I’m trying to say. I’m altering it as I go. (just wait my mind is spinning) And being threatened on all sides by authority, meaning you. The theme of my paper revolves as follows: “Who are you to question my future?” As we speak, my content seems prophetic (because) so this, is an assault on you. “Why do you think you know my past?” Did it ever occur to you that this is exactly what I want to do? That I want to do something that nobody else does.


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