RE: devloi pits the eare

I finally annoyed that special nose was bast my engine caught a rhythm section and jammed crack and ear lobe a final window sliced a body and caught the sight between my eyes i was lost in a calm but did not know her name i found a golden ticket and i felt the same and same, the radio was on the AM i felt i was am and the same day rounded over twice a message and crowned my king, left my bast my window where the devoice saw my name oh and his feet were brown i could not see past my brown eyes and green fields of plaque time was time again and the fight for sincere poems was locust and footholds, this again and not the same, I oval and you should be the one to hold my nose above the water, i can drown if id like but i put a ladder in front of it the girls all know that i am not a window, but they see bast me and not a past or present scene with change the film in time i do not like the sequel it is all wrong I do not like II the second of the pharaohs the noise of the whine and wine i did not drink, his spine erectile and ids the one in lob my nose through a window, noise is oval noise is oval i seen the scene it was all wrong a cut-up poem of a script i did disagree with everyone in my head, but the sentence i threw was the best of men, the meat i was to grow i see and the fleet in my head a battle armada ready for the strike it arrives closer as i speak, i can not rid the fleet, and they wash my dirty feet, the splinters and cracks create a since of penis, i am the egg plant which is washed off the walling woman, she was my note, i was her note we played a soft tug, and i mental ghost was watching the tune of there trumpeter and i mixed up with the chains and raved it up closer to the flame is the crunching noise of shame, i was wishing for a wonder of windows that are bright to clean a filthy window and be given sight i wasn't just about to cry but the tears shriveled up inside. the ghost did not knot the knocking will continue. chem the oval is burn shavings this si the end of feeling bitter sweet, the sweetmeats flavor has risen bast the nose whole. the nose hole i did not clear became red blod, and rags did not stop a fleeting army spear. i wish this was something could play with and mend but the remembers of society like a naked man, i ran bast the past and vastness did not open, the opening is a spear and the door the door a knot, the forgetting of a grandma, the door was not two knots, the pilgrims are a watching old wayne thoughts and finger loving out the loafing of my mouth demutness of flim Nal a filmock the detock of ixs and frime the frames of eveal a vile was not reached but a stage of curtain blunders an steer bast the could and cold tilted bast a finger and fingering out my nose hole.-a


if this is not me then we it shall become i will knot be a knee and i kneel before you squashed the puddle of me/we.




'suming up

aaron, imagine the primordial noise...vast...humming...treacherous....almost palpable...tricky...ellastic...we were not there...we were not here either...caught in a light splinter...without perceiving the noise...without feeling it...and then splinters...splinters of light humming ...fleeting blunders...combinations of something light with something heavy...a window caught naked...the bitter change me/we...then an army of doors....doooors...dooooors, aaron...dooooooors...do you hear me...and the domestic AM/PM special scene:pits and nose and tears and change and detox rhythm and bad wine and bed whine and the film of locusts in the field and the great devoice...devoice...devoice...the clean engine...humming ...its chains ..rounded the vile present as if tears could ever change anything...and heads...many human heads in clean knots...fleeting rags...i don't want to drown again...he.. hel..help...and feet feel the noise and the whole engine strikes five several times...loosing the footholds...watching the footprints disagreeably...and those past eyes disagree and continue to watch us short-sightedly...
this shriveled mental cut-up , greyish , erectile, chemlobbed...
the nooooise of this filmock knot... mend it, change knots, paste the cracks, wash the fields of the golden scene, slice the forgetting time, cry over the changing water...let us watch the noise as a motion picture...in the thirties...
the flavor of my bitter sentences reach the pilgrims' feet...yellow, saintly, cold...
let us change the armada of knots, aaron...oval knots...

your grandmapa-c

BY: AaronHeld and Carmen Racovitza