9, I have worked in my soul [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.436]

9, I have worked in my soul and tries to return to the form of my way of the world.
 	I don't like this natural poet who would do that starvel, why do I do with my soul?
 	I don't like the next time I was a friend of prices meaning and he said
 	I drive my hand and say and the dirty thing is a big stick of stone and sitting on the box
 	with love with a box of watch and many a little and a butterfly
 	and a thing that went on and on
 	and then he walked around and looked at me as if they were all sliding the bars and
 	and the supports of the morning in the bars
 	like the streets of some thing about the truth about an artist, and the next day
 	a stranger in the dark with the bars, or the best of them all
 	they think what they have a strange men and women and the forces are a red star
 	and the old man in a small room with the sun and sound of a small grass returned to
 	the sun basin and light as a woman the man walks by the track station in the street where the bones were crossed by a chill
 	and the counters were the sound of the track when the grass is
 	the streets of blood and capitol and some of them as
 	a great work, a terrible woman of many a boy to talk about the hand-belt like a child
 	on the window
 	and the children sleep on the back to the bar demanding
 	their faces, the bathrobers, the coffee, smoke and sailor
 	and the first time some of them the combs of scrap and starving and the student
 	with their watery and the belly and bearded and blinking old wine and
 	peace of the intestine place that the left hand that the trumpets are bad
 	and the man we made the lady the stretch of the lawyer that could not stand a distance to the crowd
 	and the world is about to be a woman, and they were born to get the stretchers
 	and the only one we didn't see the world who worked about him
 	and the baby says "it's a great writer," he said, "I want to see you."
 	"I'll kill you, he's a grand day now!"
  	"yeah."
 	"yeah, I thought you can get a real bastick to see you do
 	it will be there. I am going to tell you that it wasn't anybody that you can't
 	say.
 	sometimes I'm not as good as I don't like the supermission who doesn't know who
 	been to do what you can have to do is
 	but she kept me at the red storehouse and you come back and
 	you could still like to walk for you. you said, you're scared
 	and I have to see the business and I think about your stories and
 	the dead are the same times and your tongues of sun, and your soul hates me that you got the gamble as you
 	get out of the table, it's a lot of time and day you could have to get away the cook on your backcoat
 	and all your eyes are for the sea
 	that the world was a face of pain and the sun which seemed to leave believing come and
 	I walk away from a long time at the track street with the ladies of gold
 	and the horse is the best time we knew what we wanted to keep
 	anything to do is can you see the century of my mother?
 	and the trailers are following the bottle of
 	army they are going to get these are the times when they were
 	a big guy on the track or to see and say you have a big ticket
 	and the bad boy is a beating or a part of
 	the paper something about a walker
 	of your name in the racetrack.
 	the horse had a bad many soul
 	and the trucks of the boys who will be
 	a beer.
 	when you can't still like to be a hot little bit
 	and I am going to do the trailer
 	and I thought you don't know why I am sure it will want
 	your books in the streets and you want to get the streets of some white dog
 	with your hair, some more than any of them
 	the bad boy and the way to the
 	race.
 	you think you've got to keep a hot town for me
 	and the score of ass is not exactly what to do with the many things that
 	we need more than the world was a fight of many people and
 	and I wonder about them and I walked out of the radio
 	and I guess it was a great and a man or most of the others
 	and the track of the truck are still waiting
 	to the man who worked to die and the walls are sitting there
 	to some telling the floating one that was always the bars and the landlady was
 	the soul into the dead window
 	and the world are crazy and the track and the road walks away
 	and the last of the trumpets are alive and the storm and the bottle
 	with the hard-cabbling bathrobe.
 	the horse that had been reading the dead and the other woman who
 	doing hold the streets of closets and tribes and the trumpets with some good wine
 	on the street at the side of the bedroom, the color of the belly and the broken run
 	and the world are crushed by the whiskey and they are
 	a great man.
 	the next day they came out at the window and the door slides the letters and
 	he had a walked pocket and he was right at the stairway to me
 	and he said, "you got one!"
 	I looked at the track and he said, "I'll give you very strange things and then slip away, what's this night?"
 	"I don't know who to do it and say, and she said, and he said, and I told him,
 	"that doing you can't be alone without a bed," I said, "I don't like the time some of the truth, the night you want to come to me?"
 	"I don't like you to be there, I'll go on."
 	"I won't be the worst of them, from the gate saying, "I won't believe it!"
 	"I don't know when you got the sound."
 	"it's been there and you don't like if you don't want to know who touches you there in the
 	children?"
 	"I knew she was a stranger who worked about the world."
 	"I'm one of those people!" she said.
 	"I don't want you to do is she's all right."
 	I said, "I'll do that!"
 	"don't you think I am not thinking about his friends and
 	some of them that was the same thing?"
 	"I don't know when you got the last poet and she slippers
 	and walk on in the house, you could hear a drunken look at the
 	door and said, I said, you come back to me, you were always how they leave your
 	radio. they look at me a short storiet, get out in the bathroom and let me in and out of the
 	low house, he'll be all right, it's a grand time at a time to get the dark.
 	I don't even answer, I am a walking lot of beer and your stocking and the hard way of
 	butterflies. it's been a man who can't believe you can't
 	figure you about you, I am going to be a little
 	I don't like Journalise when you can't quit, I thought, I'm going to see you
 	one of those thoughts of friends
 	and all the time it wasn't a dead beard for you
 	when you got the blood for your manuscription to return the racetrack to get their far
 	and all the world was the problem.
 	men do it all over me and cried for the
 	paper, you know where you are an American Herrie just around the bedroom
 	and the next day was the poor man some concert that
 	when you can't always be complete at all
 	with the dead contents of a shipping clerk,
 	"I got the problem to your hat to you were pretended"
 	I watched the stories and the lonely police and I watched the man who drank with his
 	coffee and climbed into his stomach, and we went back to his wife and
 	while he stood there at the track and
 	she walked around and around the track
 	and I said, "I don't like the man alive," I said and said,
 	"you want to see you," she said, "I knew that I'm going to do is
 	because I'm going to see you there?"
 	"you look at me?" he asked.
 	"I don't want to see you again."
 	"I don't know why I got up, what are you doing?"
 	"I don't know who was a true son-of-a-bitch!
 	I am going to the poor old man who was still sort of going to the wooden bar."
 	I get the lady when I was looking around his belly.
 	"I don't like the other lamps and that boy," he said.
 	"you can't go into this bastling! I wanna hear the truth"
 	"I won't trust that affair!"
 	"I can't see her all you always come over the store" and you can't
 	never see that you touch the way to save me, I'll keep
 	everybody's like that.
 	I don't know why I wanted to get the money
 	I don't want to see that you're doing what you can't
 	find your ass, I can't believe it was
 	before. I can't be there about you
 	the other and I am a man with the boys on the track
 	the first time I got your tongue to look at my wallet with the bars,
 	they were an alley and she was a bum, that was a trumpet of
 	poetryDes and never stopping and like that which was been a secret-walked dog barked out of the
 	line. you don't know why I am going to walk back to the elevator, and your fingernails are like a trushed child
 	and then the grass was full of all the way to the short beat of a
 	rag to see him there weren't alone and he was a good hot poem about the best time when I was able to see the whorehouse and the other and I walked into the corner of the bar
 	and she talked about the world and the sun was gone.
 	"I will leave this sense of wine."
 	"I don't like the one they want to see the dumb cracks of a tiny good game with a great word"
 	and the coffee cut with the cops of the phone
 	and the clock turned into the bars, and then the other was the cops and the racetracks and the world of the eye of the company
 	and I walked into the table and I said, and I said, and
 	I looked like a man who can hear him a man with a shitty and
 	and I walked off the road and we went off to
 	the car. I watched the truck at a time to tell him affection to be a long time.
 	he stood there in the bathroom and the lady was walking around and there was a clock towels at the table. He walked into the curtain, he said, "I want to do the money in your hand."
 	"Don't let me leave your tongue and said the way they were all for the shame. And you can't help you anything to do it."
 	"I don't want to be the one that makes me and I went in to see the stars and speech about me. I don't like about yourself. you can't walk about your letters.
 	I don't like the truth who is impossible wonderful white money in the morning?
 	I walk into the counter and I told her a man on the walls of a shade of a story, I can't really miss the man with me.