FREE THINGS CLICK HERE TODAY!!!

N    O     T      E          T   O           S    E    L   F

Weapons at your disposal:

            --Careless state of mind

            --Walking class style

            --Beard Fear

            --Personal Flexibility

            --Blue eyed stare

. . . I love my eyes not for how they look but for how they see.

            Testify to bursts of spontaneo-reality. Puts it down to memory, in neural                                       
                   connections or on parchment. But the page put out from the inner,                                                    
                         pleasurable sights, painful ones. Sterilized.

      I love my I’s not for how they look but for how they seem.

            Truth is, I am not the guy writing any of these words. He and I talk. Check in                                              
                   with each other from time to time, 
                         but I prefers to work by my self.

My <Tarantula, by Bob Dylan> Moment:

            Death. What about dark&alone nothingness?

                        Life is already nothingness.

                                    --Itself probably misunderstood as nothingness by those moved on                                                  
                                       to Death. Somethingness ain’t nothin but

                        Maybe. Maybe not so bad.

                                    --Death? feels like nothing.

                                    --Life? feels like nothing plus a little occasional something.