Insanity has its say on every pabulum existence. 

Bottom up the thick less alcohol with a caravan mouth…

Fuck…fuck like the last fuck of this brown patched soil.  

Wild flowers on my grave and tits with unpleaded veins… 

Well love conspires puniness… Let me trust my enchanting whore today…  

She has all the poems and unsung symphonies. 

She has the potentiality to be my squandered Almighty.