United States
40° 53' 49.7436" N, 73° 54' 23.7168" W

Intolerance. A beauty that is unjust.
When can the flame be dampened with the sweetness of your tit? Your honey bunches of oats.
You’re racism, sexism, and you’re holy holy holy holy holy holy holy holy sacrilegious holiness.
Holy holy holy dam. Holy cow. Holy crap. Holy Caulfield. Holy hole in the wall.
Peeking through is the peeking tom.
Peeping tom is next door waiting to capture the rear window of the psycho's vertigo that is instilled in the general racism.
For what reason? For the purpose of being holy.

Holy holy holy.
Holy crap.
Sit tight. Don’t let go.
This is a wild ride.
A ride through the towns of Aleppo,
the ride through the jungles of the Amazon,
a ride through the streets of Alabama,
a ride through the windows of the shops of the 10 billion Jews that swept up their single shard of glass.
a ride through the land mines placed in my backyard.
a ride through the waters surrounding inquisitions and persecutions in hotels.
liberals biting conservatives.
conservatives biting back.
each biting themselves.
a nip in the bud.

Eyes closed.
Eyes shut. Wide.
Narrow in thought.
Irritation. into the depths of allocation.
Separation. Supervision.
Attached within. Attached with the aid of the symphonic being.
Beating, strumming, keeping in rhythm.

Whole for a time. Partial in holiness.
Jagged stones sticking and stuck.
I look but hear laughter.
I hear the snare. The drums clang and bang.
Fall into inferno.
It was to be. The memory.
Still. Framed.
At once I knew I could not hold in my generational angst.
The bickering. The aborted nations.
The aborted homes.
The pest.
Buddha and pest.
Praying and rubbing Guatama.
Helps the breathless.
A bout de soufflé.
Jean look GO HARD.

Go away swiping the little bubbles that condense at the foam prone lips.
Pursed and smacked.
Ready to blow.
You, me, a breath in between.
Cut that out and we are nothing.
We are but sticks.
Motionless and rough.
Brown cracked bark, barking away.
Yelling really.

Holy holy holy holy.
Pain is stirring.
Racism is present.
Not a present.
No favors here.

Sit back hold on for the ride of your life.
Enjoy the gas that is your own irrational favoritism of nationality stuffing our lungs, leaving no room to breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep. Deeper. Penetrate. Good. Go. Oh oh oh oh! Don’t stop!
Her, me, it, thing, them, they,-- went.
Gone. Good. Deeper. Darker. Lighter. Extremes.
Maybe once stay adrift the river of styx.
The river of tolerance.
Woe is you and me.

Moloch, OH, Holy, Moloch
Karin, Arite, Pinar, Sophie, Sara
Moloch, Moloch, Intolerance.
I stayed under your starry, chipped ceiling
On the big big big big small comfy couch,
Surfing your history,
Grandma and her boyfriends
I watched you go as fast as we met.

Moving fast. Slow. Backwards as if the sun shined at night, and the moon at day.
bright, but not enough. Nothing catches her eye. So much effort. For naught.
floating. Drifting. Sailing nowhere. No destination, but the one where I can catch her eye.
Gleaming, but not at me. Peering through the lens of her multi thousand dollar camera. Capture me in my entirety. My heart is already yours.

Rockland, rocky land. Holwing at my heart.
She left and gone. Out of the shop and into my heart.
beating fast and fast. Boom boom, slow slow, bump bump.
in the nick of time my tongue starts moving. Flapping up and down. Spewing bullshit. Not working.
tick tick.
time is out, so is she.
Learning. Speaking. Speaking. Speaking. Speaking.
Shrieking. Speaking. Speaking. Speaking. Speaking. Speaking.
Hebrew, Arabic, German, Dutch, Berlin, Cologne, French, Brooklyn, New Jersey, Cali, Winnipeg, Brazil, Colombia—ADAM.
As he says “It is OK. It is OK MAN.”
But it is not OK MAN.
Flashing dreads, as dreadful.
Dreading the look of the laze of the virtue of the cocksman and the vibrating vibes of going.
Lonely secret.
Fading in and out.
Shitting and waking.
Waking and Sushi RECHAVIA.
The banks of the nation of the oblivion.
Spending. Speaking Speaking. Speaking. Speaking.
Keeping darkness and speaking.
The sound of the air moving away from the glistening choppers.
Landing in the BIG X
X marks the spot.
Hold my hand.
The alleys, the homeless in chic.
I give, but I need.”
Give me.
Leave me some.
Some leave me.
alone and alone
The magnificence of regrouping gives hope.
While they are away I am distant.
While they are here I am here.
rawr rawr huuuuuuhaaaaajjjjjiiiiiggggg ooffff the naked endless mad mad mad mad mad mad mad mad mad mad unknown. the gehenne of gold, following the touch of midas, and lamammamammamamamamamammmmmmmmmmaaaaa saxophone tooted by Allen.
The sound carries onto here.
I am here.
They are here.
You, go away.
You are the incomprehensible congress of juxtaposition.
Leave them alone. Leave Britney alone.Get up and occupy another street.
Leave their homes that were once theirs. Understand they are frightened.
they cannot hold on, only to the broom. They sweep. Swoosh. Sweep. Clang.
Cleaning up the mess that we left behind.
Say a thank you. A todah. A danke.
They are everywhere.
Their lives are not bullshit. Stop and stare into the eyes of the animals given to you to kill. They are animals of the same nature.
Factrory made, and still being made.
It should never shut down. Gears, forward.


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