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I see His face .. He is an angel .. an angel of everything I need Him to be ..
I see His face .. and I get closer ..
I know how I can love so deep .. like I'm in water, but on my feet. I know why I believe in Him so.. I know why I see .. I know why I keep begging for the assured expectation of things hoped for though not beheld.
Because He that gives it, sees better than me.

That ole' devil tries to shake Soul on solid ground ..
The phantom of my dreams .. it's you I float around.
Your smile is profound.
..so surreal..so sincere.

Here.

Your palm beckons. Showing you my heart.
I take what is You.
The Love. The fart.

Jesus ..

Lord Father, I feel Your Hand touch my shoulder.
And The Army of Angels You send, always get Us over. .. and what's Love is how You show You hear Our cries.
You wipe Our eyes first, and fix it every time.
Show Us Your path, We trust you, We do.
Please don't let Us fail at what You've blessed Us to do.


My mind .. ooh Father, my mind .. it is wild. Primitive. Nomadic.

It is hieroglyphics like. Autobotish. Polaroidic. Microsoftish word count.

I may be a freak of fucking nature ..

.. Fucking is an adjective.
A verb too. ..

Deux Minds.

I do not think I am human. Just visible.

I am love.

I asked my mind to stop filming ..

It gave me Hi-Definition instead.

I turned the light out and the pink teddy bear, with the white paws caught sight of my peripheral. I didn't know if any one else free of a constant stabilitator said God and His Son's name out loud, so no one'd be attacked by the delicately hued monster. I wonder if these facultied fears are as authentic apart from the cerebral cortex .. its unique existence shifts, from thought to thumb type, and I didn't want to lose my thought, so I typed it. Reproduced for permanence, and magnified meaning, parce que, why don't I want to forget .. it's a mental exercise to master mental monsters, and they're as real as they are fighting as they are seeking a shield from .. I wondered if it's ok to see what you think like a film, le cinema, a movie. Or if that was critical thinking, or if je was in the wake of bumping into Breton and know him. And he'd think Nadja and I'd make good friends, but she'd know I couldn't trust her .. she'd never know what I'm thinking because I'm always thinking, and I don't know if she'd be able to keep up pace with my mind's run .. she's paranoid in a way.. and I don't want to be where she is .. and I wondered if the hand goodbye reminded him of Elle .. Fierce and hungry eyes I exit .. exhausted .. I go .. I beckon myself like Beckett ..

Coming, I answer ..

text me

..

a moment

What is done in light comes to darkness, and that done in darkness comes to light. Much like life. In the beginning we exist as only possibilities, but we exist. As a moment waiting to happen .. an event with pending remembrance. And the existence of the giver of semen, and its walking nuturer becomes more purposeful. And their meaning multiplies, as so the disbursement and implantation of their seed; into stages of life, trimesters of growth. And that life leaves the darkness from which it grew competent to bear light. And it breathes, and sees .. and understands and learns to think for itself. It begins to walk taking with it knowledge and concepts understood and those undefined by its brief encounters with light. It begins to speak, and disperses its seeds of experience as fact .. And opinions are formed of its source by another possibility of life, who has become an event .. and it continues ...

Combien ways in et out are there? Let us see, and in an instance .. There is artificial insemination, adoption, maternal birth .. but the only way into the world is from the womb. power. How many ways are there to die besides at birth. And I'm glad je didn't, and je don't want to. je happy je jes grew .. and je ne sais pas mal if my semen giver and egg incubator thought about me in this way when they were putting me in there ..
and in this instance I slid my slide back on .. I didn't kill the roach, but it ran back across the dashboard, and down in the vents with the others. And now there are roach guts on the windshield of this raunchy ass voiture cause somebody came out .. Chevrolet of a city about 22 miles west of here put me in a loaner car with fucking roaches .. nymphos .. je took it back, the Fonze-Haired man sprayed it, that was three weeks ago and they ass still running around cause they keep doing it. I waited nine months for this .. this discomfort south of mauvais with these fucking roaches babies and them, this consciousness .. this dispersement of tergum on windshields and glia cells, cause the dead are conscious of nothing at all .. but the living are conscious they will die, because that is what we live to do .. and another one just crawled beside my elbow leaning on the console in a hurry, like I was in its way .. it's in a hurry to die..
.and this is a moment living