“Inability to Sleep At Home”

August sounds too much like Autumn.

Less a year of recovery to the heart and there we were on the floor of the house at 40.

Still broken I tried to be causal and break the mold we both made...to no avail...subtle motions of want to show i was still there.

Why did you scream in mental images and scenes that I was filthy and non-screened?!

The following year had been hell.

Typoghraghy...a virulent hate cell.

Constant common want want for daddy and mama to come to a centered cell.

Zygote. We lost a split seond raisable beauty.

It’s a seven way split until we eight ourselves.

It’s a seven way split until we eight ourselves.

I wanted the peace and the middle of the east.

Mid Atlantic gorgeous little piece.

Pierce my heart. Feed me. Let me feed.

We just rule us!!!

I’m no longer grasping. Dying, daddy, Seriavo.

Not a Gwar joke, no Saddam...

Bare the truth, Sata, no Islam.