<3 draft 3
This is to be my very true life story and will only be more "kill it" by the time I'm done writing.
~~~~ Preface ~~~~
For the past two years I have been trying to write a poem about a war with death, a spiritual unfolding when ideology meets actuality. Being unable to "properly" rationalize ones own state of life, for lack of way or reason, I am here but unable to write, or hold the words still in my mind, let alone type out pages of writing. Talking has become a tedious task, with little else to think about other than the plight of my c***dren, and all of the lost time for study, research, work and training this has all cost me. For the first time in my life, my day to day dealings were almost exactly what I had always wanted and hoped for. I had a whole 5 bedroom hole in the ground to call my own, my beautiful street baby's to love, guide and care for and an infantile stone crafting business to hold all the pieces my life together growing out of the remaining segments of my time.
To be clear about the subject matter, the fuck piles of my life have always been a present and relevant variable that constantly requires consideration. I have been in bloody life and death "war" with the unknown faces of fuck pile since I was six years old. Having never personally seen their faces and never begin able to directly deduce who they are, I have always just averted the subject and kept my distance from questionable people and places despite their relentless attempts to get me killed over the length of my life. In my time i have adapted more of a scholarly observer perspective of life and society, always with the understanding that I must study to define the un-defined "they" lurking around every corner, as well as give a good effort to living an efficient and natured life that has tolerance to the rocks and hard places of the "support" structures that sustain me.
~~~~ Introduction ~~~~
It’s been almost four years since my adventure to the local library that cost me my beautiful babies. They are my street babies, the endless skys answer to loneliness, the only important variables of my life. I had dropped every other aspect of my existence to be there for them, we have made all the pinky swares and we have promised all the promises. For three years I was as dedicated as any "sort of dad" could have been, not so say im not still dedicated. I budgeted money to go on random adventures, I did grocery shopping fully considering their dietary needs of "vegetable soup and kraft dinner", I planed my days, weeks and months around their presents and enjoyment of life. I get stressed out about their safty and wellbeing and i get furious when treason fuck piles shit all over their honor.
My time not spent in guardianship of my babies was otherwise spent in epic battles with the newspaper punching bag hanging in my kitchen, I had made it out of a roll of newspaper ad's, a shirt sleve and a rope from the dollar store and is very litterally one of the biggest investments of time in life. I spent alot of my days trying to assemble an infintile stone crafting bussiness carving granite hearts in my backyard for my sisters and the other lady's in my life aswell as dice and other nik-nacks for my friends, I walked the river, i walked the train tracks and trails and i walked the streets colleting stone and other rocks almost monthly for crafting meterials. My adventures colleting stone resaulted in alot of very rare minerals and granite forms which were uniquly spread around the house with left over shapes and broken projects. The rest of my time spent was an exausted balance of Modding video games on my computer, Photoshoping photos of my friends into posters, rocking fl studio and my guitars and studying auto mechanics and aviation.
The adventure my c***dren and I set out on the morning of February 18 2018, was intended to be a reward for their surprise efforts cleaning my house, walls, floors and dishes, in the early hours the morning well I was asleep. Our adventure that day may very well have killed the world. How great of a "sort of dad" am I?
~~ Chapter 1 ~~
In the time frame of "BrainHoles" to "TreasonFuckPileMart", I had my freshly aerated face smashed on the ground by "ChickenNugget" over "chicken nuggests", A mural of drwaings i worked on nightly at the mcdonalds downtown and was intended for the c***drens christmas gift drawing books i had started making them for christmas in 2017. My Studying spots in the librarys were slowly anixed by theving fuck piles of stalkers to such a point that i could not continue study anywhere at all, even at the street pole in front of time hortens. I went to "cffuckpilecenter" every morning to have a coffee, work on draftings of my Airplanes and color in the drawings for the c***dren.
~~~
A weird chemical was sparsely sprayed all over my campsite, which almost melted various of my extremities off and a "Probably a Nazi" bus driver try to run me over right in from of parliment hill. I sat in front of a Tim Horten's half dead after waking up with these treasonus holes in my face on my one day trip to "Treason Fuck Fest" for several months, I to this day have no idea how these injuries I have incurred got there or what they are intended to do, and at the time so much "GuatopoAssMouthProjectionBeamCannon" and "StalkerFuckPile" was going on that there was absolutely no point, in my mind, further involving those who clearly already were completely involved in the siutation i was putting so much effort into resolving.
I had found a giant dimond with a chip out of a buttom facet and two iodine marks on it beside the Royal Bank of Canada's Head Quater Building right infront or parlimet, just down jeut up the street from my shared occomidation street polein front of tim hortens. The Giant Diamond in rhetorical media gander turned out to be worth potentially 20.3 million dollars... go figure. I had, at the time, sat there in great debate on the premise of finding a giant diamond potentially worth any substantial amount of money and the endless shit it would likely be. I had already accumulated that which adds up to a "Small Bag" of "Potentially Diamonds" that I had taken to the peoples diamond store in "CFFuckPileCenter", where I was told that they were probably not real and that they would have to send "Small Bag" of "Potentially Diamonds" away to properly check their authenticity. so I decided at that time that unless I can be there well they are doing their thing, the c***dren's Christmas gift of a real "TreasureChest" was more important! I had already been colleting a lot of interesting trinkets and jewelry looking stuff with their tresure chest in mind.
To have gone from studying and hide and seek with my wonderful babies at a library to four years of "treason fuck pile" and "subsidiary assmouth fagots" has dissolved my patients and respect for this "piece of shit country" into a festering blood puddle of "pure vengeance", and to come to understand that an endless ass mouth and its inability to understand, interpret or apply the English language is the cause of all the hell of the past four years of my life has left me down... unhappy.
~~~~ Draft 1 Parts ~~~~
I sat for months with "brainholes", broken shoulders, and the worst "sort of family" problems imaginable under the impression that i could,in one day; figure out if "smallbag" of "potentially diamonds" was worth any money, get advice and or funding to start a business, "marry a maybe mommy" and save "the wonderful babies" from imposing "tyranting" all in one valent "swloosh".
Before "crazy ass chemicals trying to melt my limbs off happened", and "endless conspiracy and back stabby treason" from my supposed friends, family and community while still trying to track down my missing c***dren which all the prelisted parties are seemingly involved in or are other wise being leveraged into whutever "it is". Nothing about the salutation of my life has improved one bit. my quest to save my c***dren has become an all out war between my self and endless treason fuck piles. It has become a global issue, a question without answers and no honest person to inquire too and myself, having been there and involved the entire time, being ignored and tormented for merely trying to offer assistance to those i am obligated to do so for, and the other i valiantly wanted to keep out of treason fuk piles reach.
I spent the past two years creating a favorite folder called "wonderful internet ladys" (as to avoided the psychological weight that all this shit mouth terminology smothers the self image of these wonderful women in <3's) are my recovery therapy, a direct attempt on my own part to keep my mind in a manageable loving place despite the constant and persistent treason my entire life is slowly fuck piling into. There are people trying to corrupt it with stupid crazy nonsense, yet another in a 4 year long endless shit festering out of this fuck piles mouths. Until now, i haven't really been able to sit and write about it, everything comes out rage rage rage, but i need to write to reduce stress and sort through the "what the fuck" of my life- maybe is all a traitor trap, "Dear God".
I say to myself, "i sort of clicked on stuff to meet a girlfriend", a very none present variable of my life for 16 years and a void of my life that my street babies rendered obsolete with "more importance" and shining wonderfulness. I in a very big way do not have the social skills to approach the subject, which in my mind is not of a lack of confidence but more so an unwillingness to involve people in what i consider to be a "harms way".
The wonderful women's, became a lullaby of feminine softness to my fractured missing baby head by simply being a positive and beautiful symphony of delightful stimulus. I <3 you(s) for being a wonderful and stimulating distraction. i appreciate the honest expression and call for love, its the spiritual food i have sought my whole life to find and could make a really great filter for some kind of website somewhere.
The internet is a stupid script k**dy shit tier faggot and there for thinking about it more "securely" is really fundamentally important to their safe and effective operation and application as a tool of employment and financial activity. the very subject is extremely diverse spanning generations, methodologies, languages, cultures and technologies.
~~~~ Notes ~~~~
You are Beautiful, Be Safe! <3
notes:
-gustoso d**gs
-address traitor going to my lists on internet
-address stolen computers, accounts and passwords
-internet safety
-gustoso assnet
-dopple ganger fagots
-meet maby mama
-d**gs/poisons/toxins/venoms/chemicals
-blinding light and noise machine k**napper fuck pile
-more compliments and <3's
https://www.pdfdrive.com/writing-books.html
~~~~ Blurps ~~~~
~Now days i live in a fuck pile of bastard r****t police, who steal my every muttered word, a fuck pile of shit mouth faggot eyed women beater crack heads that do nothing but stab me in the back, faggots.
~a progressivly challing job that pays the bills, builds up investments, leaves room for play and keeps my mind and body grounded.
-Letting my mind ignorantly wonder into a pit of self perpetuated loneliness due to the overwhelming anxiety of my life was a usual end to my day.
~~~~ Preface ~~~~
For the past two years I have been trying to write a poem about a war with death, a spiritual unfolding when ideology meets actuality. Being unable to "properly" rationalize ones own state of life, for lack of way or reason, I am here but unable to write, or hold the words still in my mind, let alone type out pages of writing. Talking has become a tedious task, with little else to think about other than the plight of my c***dren, and all of the lost time for study, research, work and training this has all cost me. For the first time in my life, my day to day dealings were almost exactly what I had always wanted and hoped for. I had a whole 5 bedroom hole in the ground to call my own, my beautiful street baby's to love, guide and care for and an infantile stone crafting business to hold all the pieces my life together growing out of the remaining segments of my time.
To be clear about the subject matter, the fuck piles of my life have always been a present and relevant variable that constantly requires consideration. I have been in bloody life and death "war" with the unknown faces of fuck pile since I was six years old. Having never personally seen their faces and never begin able to directly deduce who they are, I have always just averted the subject and kept my distance from questionable people and places despite their relentless attempts to get me killed over the length of my life. In my time i have adapted more of a scholarly observer perspective of life and society, always with the understanding that I must study to define the un-defined "they" lurking around every corner, as well as give a good effort to living an efficient and natured life that has tolerance to the rocks and hard places of the "support" structures that sustain me.
~~~~ Introduction ~~~~
It’s been almost four years since my adventure to the local library that cost me my beautiful babies. They are my street babies, the endless skys answer to loneliness, the only important variables of my life. I had dropped every other aspect of my existence to be there for them, we have made all the pinky swares and we have promised all the promises. For three years I was as dedicated as any "sort of dad" could have been, not so say im not still dedicated. I budgeted money to go on random adventures, I did grocery shopping fully considering their dietary needs of "vegetable soup and kraft dinner", I planed my days, weeks and months around their presents and enjoyment of life. I get stressed out about their safty and wellbeing and i get furious when treason fuck piles shit all over their honor.
My time not spent in guardianship of my babies was otherwise spent in epic battles with the newspaper punching bag hanging in my kitchen, I had made it out of a roll of newspaper ad's, a shirt sleve and a rope from the dollar store and is very litterally one of the biggest investments of time in life. I spent alot of my days trying to assemble an infintile stone crafting bussiness carving granite hearts in my backyard for my sisters and the other lady's in my life aswell as dice and other nik-nacks for my friends, I walked the river, i walked the train tracks and trails and i walked the streets colleting stone and other rocks almost monthly for crafting meterials. My adventures colleting stone resaulted in alot of very rare minerals and granite forms which were uniquly spread around the house with left over shapes and broken projects. The rest of my time spent was an exausted balance of Modding video games on my computer, Photoshoping photos of my friends into posters, rocking fl studio and my guitars and studying auto mechanics and aviation.
The adventure my c***dren and I set out on the morning of February 18 2018, was intended to be a reward for their surprise efforts cleaning my house, walls, floors and dishes, in the early hours the morning well I was asleep. Our adventure that day may very well have killed the world. How great of a "sort of dad" am I?
~~ Chapter 1 ~~
In the time frame of "BrainHoles" to "TreasonFuckPileMart", I had my freshly aerated face smashed on the ground by "ChickenNugget" over "chicken nuggests", A mural of drwaings i worked on nightly at the mcdonalds downtown and was intended for the c***drens christmas gift drawing books i had started making them for christmas in 2017. My Studying spots in the librarys were slowly anixed by theving fuck piles of stalkers to such a point that i could not continue study anywhere at all, even at the street pole in front of time hortens. I went to "cffuckpilecenter" every morning to have a coffee, work on draftings of my Airplanes and color in the drawings for the c***dren.
~~~
A weird chemical was sparsely sprayed all over my campsite, which almost melted various of my extremities off and a "Probably a Nazi" bus driver try to run me over right in from of parliment hill. I sat in front of a Tim Horten's half dead after waking up with these treasonus holes in my face on my one day trip to "Treason Fuck Fest" for several months, I to this day have no idea how these injuries I have incurred got there or what they are intended to do, and at the time so much "GuatopoAssMouthProjectionBeamCannon" and "StalkerFuckPile" was going on that there was absolutely no point, in my mind, further involving those who clearly already were completely involved in the siutation i was putting so much effort into resolving.
I had found a giant dimond with a chip out of a buttom facet and two iodine marks on it beside the Royal Bank of Canada's Head Quater Building right infront or parlimet, just down jeut up the street from my shared occomidation street polein front of tim hortens. The Giant Diamond in rhetorical media gander turned out to be worth potentially 20.3 million dollars... go figure. I had, at the time, sat there in great debate on the premise of finding a giant diamond potentially worth any substantial amount of money and the endless shit it would likely be. I had already accumulated that which adds up to a "Small Bag" of "Potentially Diamonds" that I had taken to the peoples diamond store in "CFFuckPileCenter", where I was told that they were probably not real and that they would have to send "Small Bag" of "Potentially Diamonds" away to properly check their authenticity. so I decided at that time that unless I can be there well they are doing their thing, the c***dren's Christmas gift of a real "TreasureChest" was more important! I had already been colleting a lot of interesting trinkets and jewelry looking stuff with their tresure chest in mind.
To have gone from studying and hide and seek with my wonderful babies at a library to four years of "treason fuck pile" and "subsidiary assmouth fagots" has dissolved my patients and respect for this "piece of shit country" into a festering blood puddle of "pure vengeance", and to come to understand that an endless ass mouth and its inability to understand, interpret or apply the English language is the cause of all the hell of the past four years of my life has left me down... unhappy.
~~~~ Draft 1 Parts ~~~~
I sat for months with "brainholes", broken shoulders, and the worst "sort of family" problems imaginable under the impression that i could,in one day; figure out if "smallbag" of "potentially diamonds" was worth any money, get advice and or funding to start a business, "marry a maybe mommy" and save "the wonderful babies" from imposing "tyranting" all in one valent "swloosh".
Before "crazy ass chemicals trying to melt my limbs off happened", and "endless conspiracy and back stabby treason" from my supposed friends, family and community while still trying to track down my missing c***dren which all the prelisted parties are seemingly involved in or are other wise being leveraged into whutever "it is". Nothing about the salutation of my life has improved one bit. my quest to save my c***dren has become an all out war between my self and endless treason fuck piles. It has become a global issue, a question without answers and no honest person to inquire too and myself, having been there and involved the entire time, being ignored and tormented for merely trying to offer assistance to those i am obligated to do so for, and the other i valiantly wanted to keep out of treason fuk piles reach.
I spent the past two years creating a favorite folder called "wonderful internet ladys" (as to avoided the psychological weight that all this shit mouth terminology smothers the self image of these wonderful women in <3's) are my recovery therapy, a direct attempt on my own part to keep my mind in a manageable loving place despite the constant and persistent treason my entire life is slowly fuck piling into. There are people trying to corrupt it with stupid crazy nonsense, yet another in a 4 year long endless shit festering out of this fuck piles mouths. Until now, i haven't really been able to sit and write about it, everything comes out rage rage rage, but i need to write to reduce stress and sort through the "what the fuck" of my life- maybe is all a traitor trap, "Dear God".
I say to myself, "i sort of clicked on stuff to meet a girlfriend", a very none present variable of my life for 16 years and a void of my life that my street babies rendered obsolete with "more importance" and shining wonderfulness. I in a very big way do not have the social skills to approach the subject, which in my mind is not of a lack of confidence but more so an unwillingness to involve people in what i consider to be a "harms way".
The wonderful women's, became a lullaby of feminine softness to my fractured missing baby head by simply being a positive and beautiful symphony of delightful stimulus. I <3 you(s) for being a wonderful and stimulating distraction. i appreciate the honest expression and call for love, its the spiritual food i have sought my whole life to find and could make a really great filter for some kind of website somewhere.
The internet is a stupid script k**dy shit tier faggot and there for thinking about it more "securely" is really fundamentally important to their safe and effective operation and application as a tool of employment and financial activity. the very subject is extremely diverse spanning generations, methodologies, languages, cultures and technologies.
~~~~ Notes ~~~~
You are Beautiful, Be Safe! <3
notes:
-gustoso d**gs
-address traitor going to my lists on internet
-address stolen computers, accounts and passwords
-internet safety
-gustoso assnet
-dopple ganger fagots
-meet maby mama
-d**gs/poisons/toxins/venoms/chemicals
-blinding light and noise machine k**napper fuck pile
-more compliments and <3's
https://www.pdfdrive.com/writing-books.html
~~~~ Blurps ~~~~
~Now days i live in a fuck pile of bastard r****t police, who steal my every muttered word, a fuck pile of shit mouth faggot eyed women beater crack heads that do nothing but stab me in the back, faggots.
~a progressivly challing job that pays the bills, builds up investments, leaves room for play and keeps my mind and body grounded.
-Letting my mind ignorantly wonder into a pit of self perpetuated loneliness due to the overwhelming anxiety of my life was a usual end to my day.
2 ani în urmă