<Inside, foresight, never been past midnight. Adam dawn, mothersuckers never play me. The lights emrege but the train is fast and we're all on anti-ecstasy. Sexotomy is painless. Decoy decay, there's no cancer, belief strange postwards. I've add an affair last year year but it's irrelevant. I lied way too much. My gods won't repent my body, silencer's sin. Entropy desert, i walk the line, the holy sands, the shrines and the pyramids, fate in a sad mood, faking to be happy when not alone, paid in half. My body disgusts my 149. I gather 411 randomly but i've tried to shift to more systemism and totalitarism by investing into books. Libraries gave us power, then powder came and made us. We'll shift, not paradigms but syntagms. Last key was the transports, now we've got the axis. I dedicate my life to the death of me. There ain't no virgin of the soul i was expecting when i dwelled in city stations and wandered the streets at night looking for somebody who isn't you. I've left the station. After the lights go out, the signal fades, the love load lightens, soon i'll be sober of this world. The same mirrors, all that you can't leave behind, my newfound perfume, the stuff you can afford, i must be already gone without leaving my parent's flat. Take everything from me, split it between my nefew and my two nieces. I've seen on telly that the reason she lives is her lover. The same applies to me but i'm alone so no point is there's here. My belief in any of my gods has vanished today. The Jihad is only a political cynical stance. No love nor hate, a polylith that fades to gray. Dead cities, i solate myself in the contemplation of numbers. I'll try to be polite and decent. I'll do my best inside and show my worst aside. Rooms, interriors. My 149 hosts no soul. Mengele in Ostia, one too many, stones behind. Intergallactic, 911, insterstellar, 149.Wankers and spankers behold, the dogs of lust are barkin', the sounds inside my 149, from the crossroad to my doorstep, i tried in my way to be real but i failed. It's false. Either spare parts. They forbid to recycle me. The session lightens. There are now sentences. Short ones. Niņetto and Ossan Hassan are discovering more silly insults thrown at me. The sidewalk and the sun. Scott and Bill are alive but they stand where i should. I'll ask the older one about that bible chapter. Took five valiums yesterday and smoked too much pot the other evening. You can lematize and nihilate what remains, but you won't find a way out. You can have your trip as long as you wish but the stations all depend on you. Kingdom ain't no fiction. The comitee believes that the self perfume is an interesting initiative. Wondered if she would notice. Masters are still makes sad jokes or have their lost their hands on the deed. I can take anybath, i won't feel any cleaner. The barrel of my gun on the table. Careless stupid life. Stoned and dethroned, bleeding wide, crazy in the attic, i'm over you, over your people, over the trace of your race. Jesus whispers that i am cursed and she might as well be right. Never trust a yuppy. Niņetto, we used to be citizens, smokin'kane. In spite of me. Stoned and dethroned, i give away to strangers what their desire lusts and lushes them from the places where they shelter, dangerous connexions under blank protocols, sacred cows of another forbidden continent, i hurt myself yesterday to see if i still feel and i don't. I bled in my pants but the pain never grabbed a focus until i got home to acquire a visual. I've never been by one side, playin' slides, paying brides, or is it yet another memory leak, a chemical clown episode or a vanishing point reached as a lunatic station. Tuck you in, tomorrow, in the bogs, turkish apple pie, fuck to bleed, nearly midnight and you're still wanking me as self indulged safer sex interlude. Lower than the moon, low noon. I saw Vanilla Sky and it blew me once again. Ditry epic, thin ballerines by the Opera station, she sends her blessings, the decoy by the airport, we didn't make out in the parking lot in Denver because she was blonder than i expected. What a surprise ? Dirty trees gathering by your side, farmer in the city, be bold and then bald, and the ugly will follow, sad ageing toy, staring at your shoes, i'll never one that wears boots. Suck your lingus, tuck you out, finger nails, bleeding knees, blood on your sheets, i'll look away while she is with her girlfriend, total regression, time passes me by, trains to history, labour of books, branch extends in your backyard, all i want is to go get by, back when i was citizen, ambient, you walk past me without noticing my inner mental errection. The momentum, the inner karma, the jokes i'll never understand and the memories i gambled till i lost them. Shooting my veins while the sunny god stares at my back, inner voices were fakes, corn flakes turned into fags for a shag. What are you talking about ? The real me, the one that matters, not the office dummy that bleeds code for a chance to bite more bytes. I started a book online under a different alias, produced more hits. I forgot her in the contemplation of my numbers, i tried to run away but the devil outside tucked me back in, the garden's secret, 21 monks and an ape, fake Mo'Waxes under heavy taxes. Fire on the wires, coppermine landsccapes, landslides powered by microsoft, i almost worked for them before the bubble but i leaked motivation and started a joke that never ended. This is the third in a series of four monochromatic essays. It's a lapse when i force myself to write down all that goes through my brain while the tension is adequate. Narco tourism is a way i should explore. I once had ecstasy while away alone in the cowlands. I never understood that pragma stance and remained a lonesome wanker. When the lights came off in the middle of my sight, the target was locked on a grid, a button to push, enola gay, subverb the basis, forward in the attic, what are you talking about, lord he knows i'm wrong and splurge, i didn't came, i escaped when nobody was noticing, i met you afterwards and we were both silent. Central reservation, ticket on sale, london by boat, cycling like a fat tabacco junky on sugar kane, queer as kings, i love my solitude, question of attitude, too selfish to share anything, one too many mornings, careless shouts, major kudos to the stereo, the signal fades inside, Chile was the last solution, eversince i was a kid, i faked it, would you dare to love me, i wanna be your dog man star, lush for life. My hands on keyboard give me more pleasure than my dick. My spell kicks me more than my tongue. The music was beautiful and you've been all the way down to this point but you won't understand what it's all about unless you did the same with the french lyrics. It's like a high diving plane whose wings take you to the Marquises to enjoy your last dance before a lethal fuck. The acid-house rain bleaches my hair unless it's the time lapse between us. When the lights came out in the middle of the day, may we dance at the engagement party, no more questions. The trunct tainted truck tucks you off. I forgot the adress but you belonged there, late night parties at the ambient palace, stalingrad decoys, fake attics, fanatics of bassball, we're all gonna die at a dire point of desire. Who can't you trust, the one that leads your troops, the one the wind leads you to, the one you lust after for 10 years and then neglect to dive for. I've yet to decide on a fake name for my tuck buddy but her grace won't survive the next tide. There was this sience that comes to our techno coma when no one could bleed, you've reached at station when you were expected behind bars, 911 strings, 200 bars, medication floating around us, dance me till morning comes to town, cities of progress, cities of death, large avenues of knowledge, karma suits you, metal and latex, spider-cat transfers more money than trip-hop junkies, her wig of cobalt gems, dark train that penetrates her, the signal decays but the summer won't vanish, who's gonna ride the mad aloof when i end up in tear under the snow in Paris, Tibet. Bin Harry for ever, tuck you with my fingers, the sexual jihad, the time has come if you find the earth boring. She's different everytime we meet, an hypermaket, a train station. The funky drummer is dead by now and they've turned this place where we had our couch into a patatoes joint the stinks like keebab. Shesheido on my face, farenheit on my skin, pods on ear, the tracks are mine. Loco, emotion, static. Dark hard, dirty guitar, lost cities, vanishing joints, jetlagged models, opera dancers, mystic messengers, holly scents, scientists and socialists. Silence is easy when you're a dummy. Will you miss me, i guess not because you don't know my name for it is sacred and unspoken. The spelling device that never was. The landlord will be happy. No more shall we part. The departure is inevitable. No more are we part. The masterplan and it's aftermath. Ten fucking, non bleeding, years have passed. I'll got to the bank one of these days and it won't be long, you're gonna call my alias and i'll be gone with her, free whillin' like Bob Dylan. That's it, i'm about to come, so do i repulse the first primary instinct i ever had. There's more to come but it'll be blank. Anthartica starts here again. Lord bless her. No more shall we part. Pearl labour, union transitive, translate the missive, i loved her that day, no all i care about is solitude, cocaine and the stock market. We were minerals and so be it. Taking consequences of coincidences.>