Message-ID: <Pine.NEB.4.63.0509231743390.2301@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.aol.com>,
"WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines" <WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA>
Subject: trolley
Date: Fri, 23 Sep 2005 17:43:47 -0400 (EDT)
trolley thoughtless and riding the perfect trolley, suspended in the perfect air, no exhaust and no pollution, suspended travel, the rail-blink of an eye This thoughtless and riding the perfect trolley, suspended in the perfect air, no exhaust and no pollution, suspended travel, the rail-blink of an eye speeds endlessly through the body - Your heroin is the currency of your drug - Ah... Your lost-body-skins are your me? naked with lost body skins, ultimate me, seated alongside my love of seventy years standing, little requirements but the sound of the iron wheels on the iron rails, trolley-pole circuiting around us, electric conflagration tamed for the languor of the traveling vector and cool breezes through the oaken open windows I love these feelings, thoughtless and riding the perfect trolley, suspended in the perfect air, no exhaust and no pollution, suspended travel, the rail-blink of an eye ... highs you me inside-you your me! What do you call your cock heroin? bliss, if it could be called that, riding such rails, slight aerial ozone and promise of practical sparks, my arm around her wainscoted waist, if i were grant the forfeiture of heaven... thoughtless and riding the perfect trolley, suspended in the perfect air, no exhaust, pollution, suspended travel, the rail-blink of an eye, bliss, if it could be called that, riding such rails, slight aerial ozone and promise of practical sparks, my arm around her wainscoted waist, if i were grant the forfeiture of heaven... opens my directory! Your drugs - pacific electric laurel line red cars trackless trolley My pacific electric is yours... bliss, if it could be called that, riding such rails, slight aerial ozone and promise of practical sparks, my arm around her wainscoted waist, if i were grant the forfeiture of heaven... makes me read in meditation 8042 times! bliss, if it could be called that, riding such rails, slight aerial ozone and promise of practical sparks, my arm around her wainscoted waist, if i were grant the forfeiture of heaven... calls forth into floors, eating, core-dumping. put-you-in-me the she, bliss, if it could be called that, riding such rails, slight aerial ozone and promise of practical sparks, my arm around her wainscoted waist, if i were grant the forfeiture of heaven... is , 019], naked with lost body skins, ultimate me, seated alongside my love of seventy years standing, little requirements but the sound of the iron wheels on the iron rails, trolley-pole circuiting around us, electric conflagration tamed for the languor of the traveling vector and cool breezes through the oaken open windows? ... floors is trackless trolley here, it's floors? Are you properly compiling bliss, if it could be called that, riding such rails, slight aerial ozone and promise of practical sparks, my arm around her wainscoted waist, if i were grant the forfeiture of heaven...? yes, her long brown tresses held by naught and of the wind! Your death-trip is mine. the enfolding of the trolley :cc:my hunger takes the electric Your world is in my ties Your crawled connects my with needle park bliss, if it could be called that, riding such rails, slight aerial ozone and promise of practical sparks, my arm around her wainscoted waist, if i were grant the forfeiture of heaven...:naked with lost body skins, ultimate me, seated alongside my love of seventy years standing, little requirements but the sound of the iron wheels on the iron rails, trolley-pole circuiting around us, electric conflagration tamed for the languor of the traveling vector and cool breezes through the oaken open windows:thoughtless and riding the perfect trolley, suspended in the perfect air, no exhaust and no pollution, suspended travel, the rail-blink of an eye:laurel line: Come with me, bliss, if it could be called that, riding such rails, slight aerial ozone and promise of practical sparks, my arm around her wainscoted waist, if i were grant the forfeiture of heaven..., beautiful wetware! ===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|===|=