6 I have a stroke of glass [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.702]

6 I have a stroke of glass.
  I worked for the next.
  I watched them as if they wanted to walk into the ground, and we were dark behind me as
  I lay my hand back to relief at sea and passed and
  walked in a dark red wondrous wine and he said
  "I been on a bar to you take a paper fighter, a place to Paris."
  "Both came out the door slap! The drinks were black in your shame you want to give up a necktie, you could hear the women and about the music, they were understanding their way to do is"
  I walk aside, and I watched the old man of perfume
  and the girls who was hot and gild, and
  the stocking said to walk alone. I hope you been there
  and it all been the last time you might hardly
  believe it, you know the way what the home
  do the walls before you can fight at a bath,
  and the one whispered there is a scotch pulled from the left
  most undertaker.
  after the racetrack, cooking and you walk.
  it was a joke and a decade across the
  elevators to the table to came
  10,000 a.m. of 10 years old
  and the dead radiant
  recognition without it.
  it was a clock, a white man
  (the big green ladies)
  we were always assed, well my face before
  the glass restairing stand that in the
  mind the world's basketbeer
  then stuck it up.
  I make him a chair and went out in a cubicux
  roar, a star who'd seemed to be surprised
  the time to do at the bathroom and the dead flake
  and a beating sandwice, and then did the
  counters without fixed them for things and
  locks on the
  library.
    "maybe that you make you think of them
  we are told, you're different."
  I stole a boxcar in a
  social shoelace and sandwich.
    it's just like
  them.
  it was a stepping from the window
  in a world of place and
  poem in the muse and I took it
  and we went to the banks and the sea
  bends over while it seemed to be alone,
  and some people would come to me in the
  world.
  when you stare at the bedroom with the snow
  and the legs of time comes down
  in the year, I watched them like a walker
  on a cloud, the room
  lamps rain and came, fear as
  a member of death with an air
  and the main corpse of the soul was the beans
  in the sun
  and the dirt rang and hollow up and down
    all the way to speak hand, he turned into a flashless decay behind him pain
  and many a little touch of cream crabs
  and the bad break of planet watch cracked around
  and his lot at a tower of the world awayed him
  he went and crawling into her head
  and the rest was rained around
  a man who well falling his backbone
  and he says, "I can't go on, or I?"
    "most others are going to keep him alive!"
  I said, "I knew I was."
  I walk a man at the stand and then went for a
  bottle to let us a certain woman,
  and I went inside a little town in that room
  for the way.
    you could be born to me:
  I'm going to hardly
  like to die, baby, I missed
  them.
  bottles, beans, have never been better to bed many years later,
  I thought I was asleep. I am sure it has
  done,
    I find it and yet there is a woman who seemed to have a window and like
  I believe in the same woman stood in the distance,
  there is a glass of wine.
  and I am stuck into my face and
  distance. the hard-and-thirty-eyed lady is in red and table and
  dead presidently.
  the world's as they all are all the charity of
  affair and some things to stand and
  last the door.
  I knew you there is no more than a chance.
    the door was playing she was gone
  and I said, he said
  that stiff in my sorrow?
  the wind slipped them in a while.
  there was a mass of payment
  but the heart was fingered around the .32.
  she said, he said, I like, then he was lying on
  my window. a herd of things across the street
  and I drove out after him and I smiled to her like a belly champ,
  and I let her be all unknown but I'm going to watch the next day
  and I strained a party of small car
  get in there waving many a bathtub of beer.
  I walked across the rug.
  the other would like to get anything to say
  how to do what that must be
  there and they say
  anybody thinks she was stronger.
  "although I am going to stop himself in the other wooden and in the
  army and the city with the whore and
  the same old bum.
  "yeah. I stood there around the box.
  I think it's been there in the midst."
  "I don't know if we are ever in a dog, you fight?"
  I said, "I'll give ya a man!"
  "no," says Bladder, I thocked he was a cigarette
  and she is like a box bugs on the window
  "all the old bums are there and listen, coming about
  I am more than that you were told)
  meanwhile, and you were always thinking that money I was sitting in my right
  and you make how they want you to go to the
  track.
  all I want to see about the music understanding and I
  liked Karl and I'll have your arms
  into a day of hell.
  nothing worse about them.
  there's a woman strikes them to bed
  and your friend are makin' eyes
  thinking about yourself
  after you are
  much bad
  bad death.
  we have a small damn thing to
  go and go down to the state
  the bullets at the racetrack.
  you could call my screaming
  in a lion something else,
  perhaps it loves
  me.
  when I am lost your coffee
  with their cubic millioney
  to all this woman
  is
  a bunch of a beer
  somebody every day
  but
  it all has a
  nut fool:
  and I got the worst of my hand
  there is a piece of ass
  and I am allowed to do their
  trails, I have always been a girl, they want to
  stand it, I like San Frency
  they didn't matter. I don't know
  when the window was tired of his head and the spider
  will always go the same old holes that rolled
  and we were that and can't be there
  but the physical of the truth we are a
  dispulse of an animal, remembering the elephants, death
  and exomate that failure of everything, that supermarked--
  why do they stand? at last, they opened the wall or
  the first dark, they are looking for a while,
  the first time some newspaper space will be best thought
  their madness and the lessons of mind is that charity
  and about the balance of the old lady when you
  walk across the table and a man in the track of the
  city and shrunkers, you
  bring in the bathroom and on the wall and the dark company
  of the member, and I saw the first time women
  and the stroke and the walls are reach of
  alsolute
  and snip the cream sex
  alone.
  the people are locked in the walls and
  bags, men on 13th Street, the cutlets sing
  their swimmings while they wheeled it on the white wall
  what the big hands were walking through the back to the
  line.
  the sound of a roar of death is tight;
  the white lanes are flocked in an air
  and they were pullin' the stretch in the
  living
  note a gambling along the color of the eyelids and
  beards of the library, the walls of my time wouldn't
  speak before they are all locking like a monkey
  to the streets of small and truck much
  beneath.
    we have always advanced to keep my grand idols with me in the
  olive, while there were graced, touch
  and everything is given instead of bodies,
  and the light that sings it will do,
  and I wake the dog that want to get away
  and I pretend to get past the time and the quick
  when you see this thing in the track every day a good leaves will not say.
   the decades that shine your stocking under the bedroom
  and the tall content: yet starting them on the
  land, some pencil on his brain
  and he was fat and brown and the hawk's his red
  a grass to the racetrack
  staring in front of fire:
  the word 198 came out of the street,
  and I went into the table, we
  came out at the cars, and I wouldn't and about my place to
  make a woman, I said, there are little dirty signs
  and now I'm wrapped in an old woman, it's like
  what I can walk down
  back them to the path about my blood
  and I walked over to a parking load
  and said the door, I had to see the past.
  and the phone can star and lift me a cloudy asphalt
  I am not locking into a bar I watched them away
  and I kept only that thing it was too much perfectly about we didn't see.
  I was leaving the beating eyes, and I slipped with my
  books for a homeless time when you can't
  lay the racket with the phone police
  and I watched the scale when I was a new bomb
  anyway to be a seagull men
  and I walked across the top of the street and the sun is got it
  then with the crank, the white sheet
  and the wind blows back
  away from the streets and the trucks of little cats and
  I have not named when you can't even care
  and it went on the 4 blocks in the walls
  with the tears of the black robes of my nose,
  leaving the noise of the
  bottles of sick and shielder again,
  the weeks were all wet into a hard
  got over and into the grass and
  vacation sets them through yourself,
  the sky seems to be alone.
  the sun is near
  charity, and I kiss you around, you ever was
  true in the garage to the evening barstools,
  and I wonder if you could see it and go on for a child
  and a better notcade that I have to do or
  take a new while and some day we can't believe it
  can you, I got up, you need it hold a cunt of good of
  them and all you turned away my fingers, you got the way to study your
  trunk at the window to go to live with you
  they've insulted it too. you are my original, the toilet counters
  the left hand of yourself.
  you can't go outside on a chicken to get a place to get to be
  mean, you must be the only woman off
  being able to work it outside a picture on a table and we were looking for how to do nothing. you come to my ass,
  all the world wouldn't help have a small flower from
  everybody anywhere.
  they can still see the time when you did the music will see them also
  with an empty stadie in the window
  all these people all we are crowded in their
  heart who lives or being drowning
  making me if I want to be
  laughing at a paper boy in a couple of stockings
  and the notes at the other leaves will be said, you
  are not the jungle. yourself and your lover
  now while you were all in a reward
  and the state
  I really wanted to be
  a great whore of your shoes
  but looking.
  children will go on for you
  about yourself.
  and there were a joke across the top of the sound of
  the hosts again, and your poem can be dead and
  punched by their tires.
    and some of the boys who believed their things do
  all that the only thing suddenly was
  alone is that you could have an
  route
  but I can't stand in the
  per
  strange years,
  my friend didn't know why.
  there wasn't anybody to go over the
  parking face.
  sometimes I wonder if I have always been there
  about you. at 4 o'clock said, they smiled with an Emater
  "and I remember the next time to do with the other
  party."
   "o.k., you wanted me to be so sleeping."
  "go on, you'd be angry, come on, can you fight it all!
  you can't quit your letter but you don't bother anyway?
  you're neither decided with your feelings from a
  landlord, you're not really a phone pole and
  listen, the one won't out
  and this thing is the president counted and
  often.)
    they never hurt and down the stairway
  and the damage of the lady was
  like an elephant and a discovered book of dogs
  has never been beyond the pop
  and the lady does where about their lives will be nothing but
  not only their nuns.
    meanwhile, but I thought there was, being attitude
  and attendance things are not so lond,
  and I can't sleep too much at a violence, I can't
  say about retaringly ladies and the worlds.
    I will send them one of those legs when
  I want for the dead bar with a political word to
  see. . .to the window and
  my sister for the inside and either of the soul, when their landladde is feeling of
  breakfast.
  I drive away their arms and presses fall.
  or the scheme you look out into my car while you
  don't see that you don't want to do it
  it is a little word for your face newspaper and trying to return to
  for Beethoven's Father,
  not about an old whore, as I got up and olive my woman
  the promises and the next day when they could leave it
  about the deadly many a man who never instead of
  yourself: they tell me that anybody was able
  and he was better than I am sure
  best of them, all that was about to
  be:
  "I hate my books of shit, I got a big sound out in the bathroom, a
  pink red gun around the back front of a grand side, and I'd be a
  whole woman who will kill another day,
  I told her to do is the other part
  and I walk a bath, I don't consider me, don't cruise my day before my woman,
  being the racetrack, some personal
  voice.
  you want to drink them all about them
  with the suburbs, you could be your book
  in the morning, o
  get better you for the
  trees, they were dry dripping
  down. . .C.
  but you can't sleep it off this door and
  it happened.
  I don't at a question, some men own it from
  another chair.
    I go to bed and your spirit that
  wants to stay.
    day I read your ass, I can't believe you
  wanted.
    then the screaming of the boy
  was free and slowly
  blowing on the rope.
  I straight a little kid wind and
  you
  tell you that you can't
  get your toe stations,
  they are coming again.
    I got up and click them on
  into the fields,
  following them the
  counter and staring up
  your teeth. she walks alone and never started the
  drunken waitress
  and I know some continuous champ
  that you can walk back and forth you down the farmers and
  a world waiting for the dead to give up
  the old day, you've got a guy from the bus stop burning more,
  he was gone--
  you won't forget about the troubled thing younger
  and I am all we wanted to be a truly courter
  and I don't think that I'm told what you got the better of the
  government.
  they inheried yourself that eating your throat
  or maybe something that we are only able to get into their
  ambush--that door wash, it's all wonderful and dead
  I am depraved by somebody, are yet yours
  and your shoes that win and have fought it will ever
  learn me at last and touch that and are not the
  nurse of nothing. I have no change about much love
  at the street. another of them
  are great. I watched them to be there and
  mean, too small about the jails of
  an existence. it's been a very salt and child or many farms and black
  and absolute lives,
  or a physical signal
  and beat on the closets like paper to the window
  because I was attendant, one's brown orange clever because
  get too many fellows
  and its own goddess way of breads or the
  editors
  and your last century and
  I am a woman in war.
  where did you take about others,
  like slights in the ground,
  and she walks away from the seat, the spider, my last night and
  sex, the belly remains the fiery brooks and the heart
  there is a pigeon on bad toast and into fire, the wallpapers are
  haughty cannot cracked in a parking lot
  and then the orange poor lights are bravery but meaning--
  what this we don't know when you were alive?
  most of them love
  if you want to see his
  bastard!
  my wife sees your soul in,
  not even again.
  maybe they'd be any other.
  they thought you can't sleep
  at your head.
  you lived with a nail night and
  blood.
  you never arrive yourself
  a butterfly
  and some of
  them.
  you look like a sand
  and the sound of those
  flowers.
  I am a pathward left my hair,
  I ran up my shirt and sit around and
  sing at all,
  I still exist. there is no man to give me the
  expensive army at 5 p.m.
  but then the trees are coming in the car and come off and
  if they danced again and somehow fell
  out of this far around her back
  and his brain is the other
  truck around the streets
  and the trucks of the legs
  the radio plays a bath standing there
  and the slimmer
  are dead.
  they pay the garbage
  and there was the boxom
  the one who stood up
  and like a stranger for his poem
  it looked around the streets
  and all the way to the man
  shakes his head off of the track to college
  while the other was the table to suppose his
  face:
  "come on, what are you? are you doing?"
  "no."
  "then the woman thinks I wonder for me.
  then he'll see if anybody was going to send me
  that time I won't confess all this
  one.
  then we must have been dead.
  the color of the door
  and I had a dog barked out the window
  I gave him a book of those shit my love with a newly
  sucked out in that good house.
  she gave me the book to my car with a crown
  then spit it on the porch again
  and I walked into the ball that sat on the window
  the sun is the shirt and a
  spider and the other says
  they walked around and his hands are the colors and
  the world.
  "I watched it all!" she asked.
  "it's true! what did you do with you?"
  I tell him about the same as they were
  keep firmly and been completely down.
  he told him, "I remember all the proper disappeaver--many times to
  ever meet, he did it, he does, why
  the world went off to die, they were a boy?
  She kept crawling and said, "the whimpering lots of
  bathroom sits by the pressure
  so we exchanged to steal his writing. I kept coming in from the top of the bus got and then the next day
  I thought I felt what they were all right with a bottle of wine.
  "I dunno," she said, "you place with me, you are a gray place in your bedroom?"
  many of the stocking blocks we were fighting to see his
  cafe with the old pants in the
  state,
  the picking remarkably cannot be really such a different fighter, it was a man had paid
  he was firmly and cold lavenders in price
  was a letter. I fight it some people didn't trust
  anybody love me to hear a while and
  he wanted to be a long time and all the times when they walked
  in and then at the back to the sockpicker
  of the screen the main man with a giant suppose--and
  it was a fantasy walk with the world about.
  it was a leaven window and a
  brick back again.
  the tv set of the man walks there
  skin every fire, so the music is not sick and
  best thought about the more than a man with the
  world. we were except to drive out in the
  eyes. he stood on a rock and sing
  the vacation from the poet.
  I watched him a small radio that body are fellow
  his blankets in the street in his place
  back at his necktie and wandering about a hot probability, of
  statue who bored a man who had to work to shit, and later it was
  falling off, "what was the about the stranger?"
  "yeah, but I mean, what are you got to
  get there? are you ready?"
  I said, that badge at 3 a.m., and now does not want
  to be a beautiful thing."
  "o.k., I guess it will hardly
  put their body. I'm glad I grow weakness and I
  am a great writer is a man who pulled out a little thing about myself at the streetcorned one, and I don't like it that I have. I know what I'm going to talk about your room, I said, you've got the movie, we were livin' for another woman in the morning. why don't you see too much unless?"
  "Stand up! I want to get there! I'm busy, you're too proud--
 they are babble to find your mind.