gar

The jackal who isn’t the jackal was everything again.  Sharp objects okay.  Just not sure about any of the fonts but I cannot and should not and will not belittle the overall sweat necessitated to put something to former trees.  Can’t remember if I said the other day but I really like that new musical iteration by the man who would be fly.  Amazing how all that build up did not amount to much except for laundry.  Been listening to a lot of results lately and boy is it giving me good results. 

Of course the sweetest of sin presenting itself again.  Made of ice in less than 24 hours but resistance may or may not win.  And then so soon again the many languages and the issue of replacement and mayhaps the jackal who isn’t the jackal all combining and then afterward of course these latest iterations with sensual voluminous darkness and that classic hunter (of course a word there needs alteration) this time in the secret location and with the most preferred stylistic leanings.  And the one right before as well. 

A dark new obsession begins to take hold.  Who woulda guessed a similar iteration of mud would be unleashed in that already so promised land?  And now double fisting is in order. 

I really enjoyed the outsider and am curious to see what hbo does with the property.  I think of myself as a playful sex kitten but this has nothing to do with what I just wrote.  Yamila, I swear.  I’m such a fool.  Always haunted by the office moment.  And then accompanied with an water logged illustration.  Need to get over it.  Need to suck it up.  But I don’t have the chops.  I can’t cut the mustard.  I’m feeling very louche today.  Feminine ice.  It all added up after a while.  Or something.  Then I made a great advancement in a single increment of twenty minutes.  I may plan to read something big at some point in my life.  I felt good for a while there but it was not my doing but that is a comforting thing or something. 

Engaging in sin again.  But there is something new on the horizon.  Mayhaps all these classic texts can be a guide to something greater.  A new way to live.  I love Tiffany’s new uniform.  I am so impure.  And then again that same person whom I mentioned in the opening salvo was present though this time everything was terrible and I realized what a terrible destructive force I am.  As my vision becomes crossed now.  They were all there though.  I still have a day to figure things out.  It can and will be done.  Or something.  Need to quit this.  Fast car is coming my way.  It’ll all mean something.  Nothing to prove. obvious now why nothing works anymore, a lovely little warning of the inner deterioration of everything good.  

There are no more lines left to cross.  The loving homoerotic occult has it.  No that’s not right at all.  I am so perverse and awful.  I am everything wrong with the world.  Forgiveness can it come.  Anger.  Be careful what you investigate.  Need to keep with the text yet I am so obviously not worthy.  I just need to sing into a painter’s light and all will make sense.  Stomach burns right now.  Delete delete but it will always be there walls closing in please let me not ruin everything in the eleventh hour.  I need to drink a whiskey now.  No that’s not right either they’ll be drinking around me and it will all pass very slowly and today this afternoon there was the joyous jackal who is not the jackal again and control was utterly lost and then this was further perverted beyond measure and I am everything wrong with the world.  Ah the rich tortured psychology at play.  These are not exaggerated forms at all.  The blue is just us on full display just me on full display electric blue. I experience beauty in the midst of sin and the only thing I could think to do was destroy it because I am I am an awful thing and everything is awful you me me you it’s all terrible.  Wonder what’s happening to the skin now.  Perhaps eruptions are destroying.  Love streams merits another looksy but there is also so much much more to delve.  Everything is half formed now except for my fully formed tainted and ugly soul.  No coincidence the reason for the deep shame.  Does this partial repentance mean anything?  Doubtful.  Maybe it can be a start though.  Need to return to the classicism of sin.  Full of scorpions.  Of course the connection is one through time and language but with beady blue and bypassing the black and white iteration of that second iteration and there was the time when everything was thrown out and then self-destruction bubbled forth in such a beautiful way again.  He knows what he needs more of and less of.  Hard to pull the trigger.  Ignore that word from earlier no not ignore but its not the gestalt it was just a reference to the not seen anger except for the alteration of certain states though I’ve never sampled these fantastic machines.  What the texts up to?  Of course a lovely little gift.  I went to a department store today.  I feel like I need to shave right now.  Can’t shake anything.  No more lines.  Now very close to my eyes.  Means nothing.  How in the face of this have i.  maybe later the starry conclusion will come.  This is distinct.  I’ve ruined everything and all for nothing.  Need to get back to patrolling asap and charging through the battery in the second iteration or something.  It was all a miracle early on.  This is tainting. Everything.  Heart awful.  Spirit dying.  Brain decaying.  Drifting and falling.  All lost all lost fucking gone and slouching toward.  Old idea was the best idea.  Getting ready thighs. 

I need to start a blog about alternate dimensions.  I believe in multiple dimensions. 

The bilocation of Mary of Agreda has me.