The Atlas of Methamphetamine

Thurs. morning

like a cancelled letter (connect seeing a cancelled stamp or a burnt match)

oh I’m closing …it alright.

I am closing a door while acquiring a feeling of unreality.  Humans often anguish before leaving a room, getting high outside and coming inside with the siblings totally joins you seamlessly.  Forget the keys.possessions, totally hook it up: “Surrender to the void” -“Tomorrow Never Knows”.

thurs morning

like a cancelled letter

I wasted my time.  I meant something else. (I waited).

oh I’m gonna water to ice brim bram close it alright

It’s mental!

Moth Tribune mothers come out of the sky they stand there

they stand up there…(to block.  Any more old business?)

"Strangers on a Train (195?)", a 1950 book sets costume. We ...

“Strangers on a Train (195?)”, a 1950 book sets costume. We …

We .. how to live in  dynasty of honey ...  regime of it is impaired.

We .. how to live in dynasty of honey … regime of honesty…how it is impaired.

We’re north, I had to ‘quire humors.  “Roundabout”, Yes.  Yessongs syrup.  Can we go home now?  Go, sin no more.  The real words doped how mountains (laughter part again (a sore doll)), come out of the sky and stand there talking chick-saw-chick-chick-a-chickasaw), drained of all water.

Moth tribune mothers come out of the sky (Geronimo!)

they stand there (from awful voting)

arms akimbo, circling us.

By then my SEB had intimidated me (7:11._.._._._  part again like a pal ( -‘———- (we are married to emotions.  That’s a coupon, Ï am forgetting something”) to write down.  A plate.  Break it, I kiss my fingers.  Explode.) don’t break it yet).  Put my fingers on the Virgin Mary.  Out the door.  When is leprosy an excuse?  Straighten out that gauze, leper/mummy amalgam man.

(7:11 (8:06)a t o m s  i n  t h e  v o i d …Have him drown it ah ha ha).  stoop asleep jail stop asleep jail stp asleep jail st jayul marideth

I was fantastle-ized.  Like, if 2050 Los Angeles skyline were reflected in a escutcheon pin.

Thirsty mornings blue blue blue day.  Garnish for this baked potato, loser.   Hick trit of this atmosphere I must risk it!

o … curling into an nautilus as her breasts trust forwards proudly like the twin prows of a catamaran knocks me splash.

The churlish cabin boy or the cabin boy, /b.

I was speaking dutiform and fruit is in season about how Japan to chip-in.  *preposition*

So do you expect a blue-eyed eagle man if you’re at fault, if the mattress tag is mental?   With still malignant mela ( _ _ _ _) blonde in him working a 2013 salary?

Excuse me Bob

the knob

of my pencil on plastic.

The Enterprise

Atlas -‘————- pica (pain killer (pick one line in a of that))

And shrug-ged


IBUDILAST, i-bud-i-last.  Anchor.  Accept.  Last, huh?  Warpin’

animated in the BES moral tradition, the atlas of meth:

All these trails are lethal.  When your SEB — white canary — goes walkin’ through — thrus–sw—wah—prairie

hunkin’ mazey.  We learned, or say how can you say to me— you see you went hesitatingly — undecided whether to take direction — that is to be whipped in to a froth (cattle rendered since not much fat goes into a cream … am I mistaken?) or frothletac

tics are subsumed in a whirl

a wonderful waterfall

jack boots

As a genocide rips (slowly from East to West) through parts of the world, Canada sits on the St. Lawrence sea way kiss

my lips.  But these children that you spit on (“Changes”  “Bowie”)

Oh, yeah.  First things first.  Them the news.  Tappin’ horse butter.

[there’s no skein to it.  I have two options finally, to get rid of the addiction, and abduct consecrated 60:40 as I am doing something similar to what you are doing and am not you+educated]

A random list in a ginger house to staired at lurid slinky the tasp, the tesseract, the tachyon, and matter with light swells.  I have a ghost premise.  Usual tap is TAX, and the thing under taxation is time, similar to chop, which you want under your boat to go fast.  A six-inch chop.  A blue spotlight on my banjo fingers.  Local paydirt.  Pivot on that.  “Fox On the Run”.  Fox is amped in a setting 1974, means a butter phon.

…tappin’corse butter…

‘coursefuck.  See whir full.  Tree’s a tree.






at dios




a [passice melt … pass is … -ivate.  I get the time.  …(Ti)me’s …]





years to finally



take years


pop [text goes in the margin with diamonds]

I live in a sailor boarding-house in the Twenny First Cent Churr Ree.  The Blurred Addiction

The Addison gall stones.

Oh, sure.  Us.  We live in a place building without and with a steel-on-steel train.  The uses for magnetiz’ threaten to become operational somewhere.  Oh, the blog bog bg b [Year – Year].  The beauty is how to apply retribution to a corrupt system by demystification.

amount …… You can’t leave the sailor boarding zone in Int’l Zone represent.

Takes ………….. pulp your name-of-it………[ the glassedy Levy guy, the saddle goo, as he hands …hangs on every pear-shaped syllable from your I dunno, je ne sais qua ]







Science officer appears to have a them (Junkie One express to Dachau)

finally get rid ( of the strawbrry) of their blessed addiction and “them” to boot, mainline, drip.

Let’s check it out: to test this sic reature.  *sigh* Reach your hands out.

Two, view ugly-do (cuffin’)

years  the  non-treatment-seeking headed

skin (definitely) smokers detailed black lung

fearing doting over doses

political [I do not know what you are going to do.  What I am going to do is decrypt the names]

chemical names, common

the off-the-it

o  p  i  a  t  e

He starts low: (Lie) in some cases (Lie)

pop  v

N S O A K E T O F I F F  time-of-flight

Did sickle-cell infect the F-t?  No, of course not.  The text is enshrined in a Shangri-La, as proof!

in some cases it takes them years to finally get off the opiate

wernot fooling around

I know.  There was one big button.  You want a thinger or a thumb — kind?

Time-of-flight (sin)

Ʃ fwell?

step (off) over (non-Fortran) [you paste stick old?  An old cop, young cock.  They don’t.] “San Francisco”

“They don’t break school rules.  It’s an American Dream, includes indians, too.”

non-fractal, your gaussian

“… step over that web drama argot.  Make it’s line.”

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