every night in my bed i am dying of the sex. my dream sez to me, hey i know you, heres a brown room for you with legs. youre obvs dying of the sex. i know, i say, my head low. i step back but im still too forward for ward for word. there is no stepping back. im in yr back, i feel the tan and the hard, like a brown room nibbling me all over. im arched. will you, say, vinyl my back and my back wall. look at the sad noble gleaming stainless steel tap. we could spit on it together, spit coffee, spit coffee in each others face. lift up the skin-bench and hop in under it. treated wooden bones. do not put in fire. suck the tap right out with our raw mouths. this is clearly all about showcasing my radical political commitments. im pressed against the vinyl, you hold me there, my rort friend. i want to gift me to you but im too out of sorts. ill have to check the dates with the dentist. the dentist is clearly a thief. i dont want to givft him my body but he sez hes taking it anyway. hes not at all a vinyl back like you are or me. he is metal medication, pricks you with his shot, assisted by assistant. theres a hard elegance to his mettle. i am a personality, id like to take the test pls. fj holden. ok so id like to take the test again pls. speaking of superciliousness, im sorry im so busy liquefacting. hows phillip-texas going, hows marina going. everyone is so amazing and beautiful and full of hate. and this connection sends me well away to yon outer zonk zone where i pose for shots with conquered hoity-toity. docked i tyre, burn feint. here you are on a pile of geek, yelling at dog. what do yr cells say did you never ask. a balloon through clouds. i dont care wot chief sez, ive been eating money for centuries. is it a virus if you repeat it or do you repeat it coz its a virus or is it nothing or both. stay with me, stay with me, im all very meh.