bow to the law, law give me words;
there was a fire in the belly. I heard twice. Name the belly; Muhammed...
Does she like the O and E? She likes the U and A?
There was twice. And I believed.
Then I sat near ZimZam, and flung myself through a lemon portal, and screamed:
"There? There? So I'm dead under the tree in the desert!!! I know where I've been sent..."
I slid down the stairs, " the Bait...The Fire has the Bait!!!!!!!!!"
On Zimzam's bed:
"There's no way for me to stop that door, no way for me to be saved, I've already gone through the portal, it was so quick, this power is hatred..."
I'm a weeping black in silk, and a hot raging red fire in my sleeping...no power kill's Infidels...
It passed in minutes, a quick e-yo.
I faced it like it was nothing, I laughed, I slept, I said:
"Look at these theories..."
"And ZimZam boy; what if? How can there be two souls? so this one must go....Yes, Allah will show me again by making it go..."
Zimzam was not supposed to hear any of this, it happened two weeks, ago, I vomited over the bed in the night, I brought up vomit, twice in a few days. So, I didn't say, "It's Shamsi's...." Because I wasn't calling anyone Shamsi...
They were all sure. And so I went to the cafe in the dark, and bought a plate of chips, a big plate, I ate fast. and I crashed:
It was a blank, then a quick drop, focused over my cup of tea. It was sudden blank pain, it flowed through my eyes, and I stared over and around the centre point of death.
"What has happened?? Everything has just died, I can't cope, how will I get out??"
I heard: "Daddy has died..."
"Who is Daddy? Why me? Who are you? I don't know you? Why can I die? I freak...Is this a Mohammadan girl? Don't tell me! Who is Daddy? I will mourn but I don't know why? I've nearly died, am I the daddy that died?? Don't tell me!!"
I went outside, the table was silver, I put mug on table. When the mug hit the table, it made a soft noise, but the feeling of the cup was a grating flesh-searing soft tap, I rubbed my finger under the cup round the little dent, it didn't feel soft, I tapped the mug a few times on the table and the feeling was still soft, it felt like smelling the colour creamy sick white, a putty smell you can't wash off the skin...
I recovered by walking home and becoming a lunatic, joking and hating through doors, I passed the place of the fruit and veg stall, where an arabic man had once called me over, I was angry that he called me, and I kicked him as I walked, his beckoning turned into a loud punch, he kicked his fat body off his chair, wobbled up and down, and shouted:
"Oh Boy! My Son!!"
It was a quick hilarious use of power I don't want...I ask for light to be taken away. I pray heathens dead...
I'm writing this because it's a mental month...the 2nd egg, the one egg, left the fire...I wanted to put marmite in my pasta, eat fruit bars drink vitamin drinks...impossibly I didnt understand this sort of thing , doesn't happen, in a week, when I finished eating, looking at my fire, asking Mummy God, a woman said call him Muhammad, I said sure but this has been insane before. You must know?? I !! know !!
If your all sure.
I took two tests in the hospital ward once, I was certain, because guys were appearing, a mentally disabled lad, (I mean psychically mental disabled) appeared in my walls, I saw an image of a girl with Amy's face and my red hair...
I dreamt a future alone with my kids...the baby girl and I both get bob hair-cuts, eventually she has to use a wheelchair, because her limbs are little underdeveloped, I see women in tichels, and black clothes, all looking like whiter versions of Michal, come to visit at my welfare-given free house, the guy with the divvy stutter and big enthusiasm had got a bedsit, called a bed-"safe", nothing better, it was all disabled because of the drugs.
That's a stop.
A blank.
The planet was Ezequitar. I had a free house I had a bed-sit. It was all-joy...it's a long story about the kids, it got insane, I had numbered the kids now had five different mums...there was my son John(my pick) Edom (her pick), from a seperate time and place to teh other kids, who wanted to divorce his wife, there's another story about those ones...a terrible almost comediac story...
Zimzam.
Zimzam is pretty and a hero. The first story she heard was when he called: He said:
"Mummy! I am star-light! This is so Him!"
We get like silent death. ZimZam will choke, you choke....
I tell the story, and the point of the story is like a fable.
All I need to know is assurance, some good truth, some honesty. Honesty is here, and the fact of fables is true, just little points like star-light dont shine through...
So thats
a stranger sentence...
there was a fire in the belly. I heard twice. Name the belly; Muhammed...
Does she like the O and E? She likes the U and A?
There was twice. And I believed.
Then I sat near ZimZam, and flung myself through a lemon portal, and screamed:
"There? There? So I'm dead under the tree in the desert!!! I know where I've been sent..."
I slid down the stairs, " the Bait...The Fire has the Bait!!!!!!!!!"
On Zimzam's bed:
"There's no way for me to stop that door, no way for me to be saved, I've already gone through the portal, it was so quick, this power is hatred..."
I'm a weeping black in silk, and a hot raging red fire in my sleeping...no power kill's Infidels...
It passed in minutes, a quick e-yo.
I faced it like it was nothing, I laughed, I slept, I said:
"Look at these theories..."
"And ZimZam boy; what if? How can there be two souls? so this one must go....Yes, Allah will show me again by making it go..."
Zimzam was not supposed to hear any of this, it happened two weeks, ago, I vomited over the bed in the night, I brought up vomit, twice in a few days. So, I didn't say, "It's Shamsi's...." Because I wasn't calling anyone Shamsi...
They were all sure. And so I went to the cafe in the dark, and bought a plate of chips, a big plate, I ate fast. and I crashed:
It was a blank, then a quick drop, focused over my cup of tea. It was sudden blank pain, it flowed through my eyes, and I stared over and around the centre point of death.
"What has happened?? Everything has just died, I can't cope, how will I get out??"
I heard: "Daddy has died..."
"Who is Daddy? Why me? Who are you? I don't know you? Why can I die? I freak...Is this a Mohammadan girl? Don't tell me! Who is Daddy? I will mourn but I don't know why? I've nearly died, am I the daddy that died?? Don't tell me!!"
I went outside, the table was silver, I put mug on table. When the mug hit the table, it made a soft noise, but the feeling of the cup was a grating flesh-searing soft tap, I rubbed my finger under the cup round the little dent, it didn't feel soft, I tapped the mug a few times on the table and the feeling was still soft, it felt like smelling the colour creamy sick white, a putty smell you can't wash off the skin...
I recovered by walking home and becoming a lunatic, joking and hating through doors, I passed the place of the fruit and veg stall, where an arabic man had once called me over, I was angry that he called me, and I kicked him as I walked, his beckoning turned into a loud punch, he kicked his fat body off his chair, wobbled up and down, and shouted:
"Oh Boy! My Son!!"
It was a quick hilarious use of power I don't want...I ask for light to be taken away. I pray heathens dead...
I'm writing this because it's a mental month...the 2nd egg, the one egg, left the fire...I wanted to put marmite in my pasta, eat fruit bars drink vitamin drinks...impossibly I didnt understand this sort of thing , doesn't happen, in a week, when I finished eating, looking at my fire, asking Mummy God, a woman said call him Muhammad, I said sure but this has been insane before. You must know?? I !! know !!
If your all sure.
I took two tests in the hospital ward once, I was certain, because guys were appearing, a mentally disabled lad, (I mean psychically mental disabled) appeared in my walls, I saw an image of a girl with Amy's face and my red hair...
I dreamt a future alone with my kids...the baby girl and I both get bob hair-cuts, eventually she has to use a wheelchair, because her limbs are little underdeveloped, I see women in tichels, and black clothes, all looking like whiter versions of Michal, come to visit at my welfare-given free house, the guy with the divvy stutter and big enthusiasm had got a bedsit, called a bed-"safe", nothing better, it was all disabled because of the drugs.
That's a stop.
A blank.
The planet was Ezequitar. I had a free house I had a bed-sit. It was all-joy...it's a long story about the kids, it got insane, I had numbered the kids now had five different mums...there was my son John(my pick) Edom (her pick), from a seperate time and place to teh other kids, who wanted to divorce his wife, there's another story about those ones...a terrible almost comediac story...
Zimzam.
Zimzam is pretty and a hero. The first story she heard was when he called: He said:
"Mummy! I am star-light! This is so Him!"
We get like silent death. ZimZam will choke, you choke....
I tell the story, and the point of the story is like a fable.
All I need to know is assurance, some good truth, some honesty. Honesty is here, and the fact of fables is true, just little points like star-light dont shine through...
So thats
a stranger sentence...
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