So I live on Hudson Street. That's a noun. but I is a pronoun, replacing the proper noun Mariah Anderson. But is a conjunction. Live is a verb. proper is an adjective. and Schoolhouse Rock was very informative.

My twx still taste like crayons, however 88 cents was fair price for food poisoning.

A verb makes a statement; like a declaration. The Preamble, I can specifiy. Hey, you're online and I write to you though you're not here, nor there, what a crappy situation.



The Bagel Boy at Einsteins smiled at me, and I could see his drunken nights, hooking up in dirty volvos, drinking flat vodka and punch, smoking on half burnt cigars, and he's even legal to pay for them. There's a Hobbit Feast happening, damn, I was not invited.

We could've been great, ya know, and that's was stalkers say when they're about to kill their prey. I'm not going to hurt you--it's the last thing from my mind. Though I've half the sense to beat you til you suffer the way I did Last March, I will restrain myself. You have nothing I want.



If All you need is love, then tell me why she left me? There was almost too much of that awful feeling. Afternoon Delight? Well, actually only on weekends, because I'm still on restriction for breathing heavily. I want you baby, I told you that through texts, IMs, phones, and even in person to a certain extent. I spent my days with him at the shop, walking like anna, downing sugar cookies like milk and cocaine. I have enough patience to sustain, despite what you may think, it really doesn't turn me on. See, the problem with these kids is that their minds are full of heaven and heaven is on their minds. I didn't panic because I know how strange your love can be; love is strange, at that.

The Governor's Proclamation

If I were not so frightened of death,
Already, I would be dead.

I want to be your fire. Put me out of heat me up with just one spark of flame.

No perfect world for unloved lust
you can be my chain
LINKING me to Utopia, or something similar, I guess.

The aroma of defeat rises off the surface of the page
corruption tasting sweet like
Monday; funday, Sunday, too.

Brash
for Murder
built on Novelisations.
Sensations
drugged by my stolen blood.
I saw the devil of
temptation, said,
spoken, written, or conveyed implacably.
Chalkboard drawings on his mirror
"Time kills more than War"

You are chasing double-sided buckets filled to the brim with soap.
Tigers, there! on your heels at last, my love!
Allusions, here, within your grasp, at last, my dear!
Rebellions Mutiny Bigotry
ARE
NOT
YOUR
CONCERN.

Whether weather can be weathered or whether it truly is conspiracy from the sky,
this class is worth my middle fingernail.

You never age out of conceiving
The Motherland, I swore by.
Books become the indictment for nights of chapter black as stone.