Dear Ginsberg and Nobokov, adieu

To Kerouac, Tennessee Williams, Cassady, Whitman, Burroughs, Gilman and all others who kept ideal company in hours of theist crises. To all those too who supplied with substance from outside and helped hallucinate. You all may relax now in your Elysian fields while I move on cautiously with "starry dynamoes" clutched under my belt.

My God is comatose
He is castrated, fuzzy, pig nosed electric
Dance, dance, dance blind bouncing bosom bella
Necrophile! Yours is long decaying
Unzip him, meat will stick along
Take a 'shroom dose and run wild wind fanny catcher
Sick Layale with caramel and wooden balls (for eyes) hehe...
Do a C.P.R, or Kabbalah or bypass
Do something you fidel faithful fidaieen!
Fornicating with faith vibrators in a nice little room
I licked him off Bison dung
You tied a bead collar round his neck
Had to die, poor confounded beast!
I counted him off those teeth i touched
And every bead of sputum exchanged
Yours locked in dusty glass frames up
Mine squirming easy on the road
That is how I think they collide
I think where I am not
They rolled in glory puffed one each, in Bratislava cold
Yours died of cold lungs, frigid head
Mine, the peg kept Haddock going.
So, still comatose. En ventilation.
Well vegetating, with mayo and mustard sauce.

And when we fell in love with happiness...

This is not so long ago, not so distant a memory. It is recollection of a present of the past when I actually had an idea. An idea that I fell in love with, so contagious that the mere thought brought all observable reactions to it. I invented the prettiest illusion that I would fall in love with and all others like me would also fall in love with. Don't ask me of love. I made it long ago and it is well digested because I reasoned it for physical pleasures. But, this time is happiness! The hormonal stimulation as a response to various environmental stimuli that makes me smile and dazed. I invented happiness and passed a decree. It is happiness that I and others similar should live for, work for and look for in anything we do. Smart grin. Such a metaphysical aim I gave and such unattainable, knotty miseries bundled along so that it would keep a whole lot of them busy. I will tell you who all and you can add yours too. Those who cannot sleep after two thirty in the night, those who spend all their sunny days wondering what others do at the same time, those who are freshly jilted or have yet no occasion to wake others at four in the morning, those who are running marathons on a circular earth and have things to say about mankind and objective emotions, rational will et al. To all these, the tugged strings of their sheets out of sheer lone nights, the chewed marked books, their dark goggles, this is a blanket, a nice little thing not to be got easily. It will keep mankind going for a while.
Yours lovingly,
Eve

Hola mi casa!

I cried buckets today
I miss something someone and some special attention
I miss looking at clothes washed, ironed and ready
Food perfectly made and on my plate
A landline and an anonymous bill at month end
A brother and his hotwheel cars
I terribly miss you Koena and your Activa
I miss our rain dances and songs after birthday parties
I miss whistling at old men and pushing kids off bicycles
I miss bus number 8347 and the swishing brown skirt
I miss you Sylvie madam and your numbered precis
I miss you devil grey and your basket
I miss you sector twenty one and blind sir
Also, the food, the perennial internet connection
The fields behind and the bus stand just beyond them
Your big nice house and the luna I left there
The little boite of Kohl and a familiar language on buses
The elite alliance and topping at exams
The college nearby, the woods, the boy
I don't even want you all back forever
You just make a gay picture of a happy personal past
Thank you, O intact firm idea of home.

Fixed finished jocund ecstasy

I have no fears. I am just so cross and a creep tripping on six joints and kegs and barrels of barley.
When you were here before,
couldn't look you in the eye.
You're just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry.
You float like a feather,
in a beautiful world
I wish I was special,
you're so fucking special.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

I don't care if it hurts,
I want to have control.
I want a perfect body,
I want a perfect soul.
I want you to notice,
when I'm not around.
You're so fucking special,
I wish I was special.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?.
I don't belong here

She's running out the door,
she's running,
she run, run, run, run, run.

Whatever makes you happy,
whatever you want.
You're so fucking special,
I wish I was special,

but I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here,
I don't belong here.

Om Mani Padme Hum

I am a jewel creep aligator elvero sanchez with paunch worms writhing under the weight of my intestinal coils and roped heavy lashes.
Give me energy, give me peace, give me love, unconditional love most of all
Om Mani Padme Hum
Four noble truths of my life:

I will not stop seeking love in every fellow

I will paint, sing and write

Buddha, you will forever guide me in all darkness of idle sorrowful worship crises

I will not demean my own imperfect figurine.