Ron Silliman Bang

But slowing down in places.

I gave them a cut of the dulie.

The greed of pronouncement.

I couldn't look up, so I flexed my vascular bundles and sucked hard on the grim soul-sap.

Society is dying for your greed.

Now watch.

We Swedish sleep hard on inflated valor.

I want your grip to do what I say.

What I say in Pig Latin.

Tinder Lit by sparking flint.

We are torn apart by silver because we are looney.

I am as weak as no man has not been weak before.

Don´t you pray anymore.

Keep me in pleasure and dust off THE FOURTH DEMON.

I'm in bedlams of things and in prisons of things and hell's pretty, all glowing and all.

I may have given out some outright honesty.

I had forgotten or expired or needed something to excite me.

Flamed by the breath of a dragon, dumbly calling out, "Dog by Denise Dietz!"

Lay those words on their drowned eyelids!

My master overcame some petty ruthlessness.

Inner demons! Take me to frown in words, you peddlers of slander!

Inside you I'm not a toy.

Can you do without your sword?

The elderly talk rubbish, they talk Inward Vision, they talk in a form that'll cut off your limbs.

There's just one soul and how Emerson got it, I don't know.

One and one is all there is, no fictional workings that violate life and spread bird flu.

Skies could wash into foliage.