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Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me. Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn, The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag, The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides, The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun. 3 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.I go into her work disguised so that she doesnt know who i am.I command her to come with me at point and put handcuffs on her. I bundle her into the boot of her car and drive to a secluded area where I have already setup restraining points.Imagine the look on the face of some teenage bitch when she takes out the donut garbage! " I lie in my bed at night time and dream of fucking a colleague i used to work with years ago.I will tell you the scenario that runs through my head.I confess, I wrote this post I response top another thread, and my cock got so fucking hard writing it and always gets so fucking hard whenever I do anything like it. Besides, she's so close to death you might as well push her over the cliff yourself and have some fun doing it. Oh wait, that's right, I almost forgot, these boards have almost completely transitioned into fag boards. You fucking faggots wouldn't slice off a tasty nipple if your fag lives depended on it. Also, VOTE TRUMP, you retarded, nigger-loving fucktwats."If she's almost 80 she does NOT have a nice body, you fucking moron.