he better get this down

                                               rather

get it out of his head

                      get it out of his head when words turn into spiders and spiders turn to women and women turn into sticky unspooling strandsslick in midair then reconfigure again into women once they grapple and hang onto a pillar opposite the one they leapt

                             pillarsHA they were leaping between cocks definitely cocks

words ran across his dreaming eyes they ran asif on a ticker tape in Roman New Times font  they were LIKE ME  LIKE ME  LIKE ME . . which then rolled as LICKE ME  LICKE ME  LICKE ME . . and eventually evolved into LICK ME  LICK ME  LICK ME . . then the words spun into lines and lines engaged and wormed end to end long roiling lines spinning in midair then coalescing into individual masseslines turning in and on themselves and then turning into feline forms freeline drawings and congealing towards a sudden tall dullwhite pillar which hinted Ionic at the left of his dreamed periphery spider monkeys occurred to him the words may even have sounded to him they leapt into the marled coralandlavender space towards an equally indiscrete Ionic pillar that hinted quietly in his right dreamed periphery and in space their forms elongated defying what their mass had been again to freehand scribbles elegant in the void like spidersilk spewed twisting coiling not lapping or knotting reaching reaching discriminating seeking the quiet uninhabited pillar right and making contacttouching reeling their elongated stringy mass onto it anchoring and reconfiguring into feline forms yet again all leaps arrived congealing  reformed they shook the pillar with their collective weight and it swelled and became turgid and sighed with coloured lust and abandon

                                                                                                    he felt his cock harden  twitch  blink  handholds  footholdsfor scampering spider mons pubis  happy  slick  sliding

                                                                                                   he woke with a startnot unpleasant and was surprised his hands werent at his cock

                                                                just the erotic sensations of nibbling kneading short quivering teasing strokes

there are worse ways to wakento feel in a bright yellow morning

got it down

0647 & 1156,  Monday,  22  6. 20

Japanese Breakfast  Boyish  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-aTzPV6vKA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qkuu0Lwb5EM

or maybe thats the reason for the presidents abysmal Tulsa turnout and performance – everything he does is a performance  for effect   without substance

not only a FAKE PRESIDENT but superficial as cheap tissue

anemic

         hide him away hmm bunker  so he cant hurt anyone

1027,  Monday,  22  6. 20

Baha Men  Who Let the Dogs Out

https://www.politico.com/news/2020/06/21/donald-trump-oklahoma-campaign-debacle-333263?nname=playbook&nid=0000014f-1646-d88f-a1cf-5f46b7bd0000&nrid=00000167-851a-d01a-a567-d79e0c9d0000&nlid=630318

he was harsh with himself Whya draggin yer heels man? Shit. Or get off the pot, ya’ve been sidesteppin this piece for weeks.

he wasnt inappropriatefuckin accurate

                                          but while he was he he was still him an he wasnt better than his phantomNo no phantom half he wasnt a spook not a conscience but another facet off the stone out of which he was cut

Bide yer time Dont get yer panties in a bunch him in panties always made him laughcracked him up 

I’m trying to be patience.

My patience is longer than yours

I didn’t name my cock Patience.

I didnt say you did Im sayin be patience In good timegood time

so he bit his tongue always over the top he bit into his tongue and spat blood around him

Provocateur

Sometimes ya gotta dig your spurs in.

We dont ride horses

I wasn’t talking horses.

Whores

That’s my boy. Worry about you sometimes.

Dont worry about me If not me no you

Ouch.

Bitin yer tongue had to hurt worse

Temporary.

              

                                                                everything is temporary

everything believed anchored isnt

temporal

          the reason why we dig in to remember the best we can live the best we can be conscious alert  present

it passes like fine sand through our fingers clutching clutching  nothing held

we are particles

he tried to be a happy particle as best he could

                                                   happy particles though have to suffer too the trick is not to suffer more than being happy

he thought he was doing a good jobthey were doing a good job

Thank you.

As I said If not me no you

I’m just saying thank you. Take it.

Thank you

cinematic auras blinded him

                               their crimsonyellow mornings lavenderpurple evenings  haunting him

he walked on a gravel road with a woman

she wore a robe a shawl she didnt show her face

luminous eyes

she was small

ahead of them a vehicle was pulled across the road

armed men

beyond them clamoured people 

                                 children

suddenly the children like a flock of gulls flew overhead and landed before them

the vehiclethose inside without pause opened fire a hail of bullets  raggedwhispers of arms

the children deflected the bullets

they whined overhead

they draft in the childrens fearlessnesstheir unafraidness 

                                                             and they walked asif they were walking in another time or reality

there is murder behind them  a crescendo of screams other wailing children  shrieking

but they were nonchalant to the cries of the carnageunaffected by the death the dying the wounded

they walked on the gravel road which peaked like a drawbridge over the armed vehicle the bloodblinded men  and arrived at a thin ramshackled house of bamboo and rice paper inkdecorated panels

                                                                                       and with the children they fell asleep

he talked with ghosts as he slept

they stood in profile

thin as flamesquivering like flames

                                      and nothing they said made any sense to him

they said it would

                           later

I bit my tongue for that?

Not really Biting it now or later wouldnt have made the dream more tangible

Dreams are at the fringe of reality and not unreal

1343,  Sunday,  13  1. 20

1925,  Sunday,  21  6. 20

Phoebe Bridgers  Funeral  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teLyoKBxbCU 

Emiliana Torrini  Gun  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0u8uTRdirE