unable to pronounce the word penis, due to certain regulatory upstanding back of the throat functions, they build a lake in the desert, wanting to reflect and immortalize immemorial syrup mysticism and break the tongues will with speech limited virtual obedience.

a million miles from anyone taking my body through the days, wondering what all the odd fillings are?

wondering why it is so hard to breathe, as each pore simultaneously defends against and dissolves in a full functioning delusion of tourism never called into question, in an atmosphere of smothering answers made up by the pitifully hopeful and praying arbiters of style.

I have been of sound mind and body failure. I watch everyone wall themselves in and get ready for the unbelievable, unimaginable, unspeakable and unquestioned gender deity of selective speaking to deliver an uncompromising message of the undersigned, replete with regret that other than self-finding fusion that forms a separate self in others nothing is going to happen.