As I feel more than store bought. All has been worth it and the warm pads of hands and the warmer pads of feet, all there to the me of the dine and the ace as he pushes Trinity off as Sin gets into him as the blues plays gluze in my head and I feel stuck together, ready to go off onto a million tangents, ready to cry me a river of torrent terror gold in this room that smells of sex and high life and low junk and nothing could be better than another popper cracked under my nose, with some coke left on the table, but me the highes high there has ever been. As we sex weave and sex spin and its all up to the doxologies to name the place where we have ever been. Out there into the front of the black night train night as they worshipped me by cell these last two weeks, as they dreamed of my ass in their hands and held and molded it above their simpy little beds, waiting for the time for me to return, and the me returned is the world shot high pitch in the sky as the sun of midnight comes to reckon them away with their own little gimp shots and there own little muffled men while mine straight, so to speak, and true, there for the fun rubber, and we are boinging and spoke wheels as sexuality comes round the table top bend like a Lionel train choo choo and its all with the wizardry of me and my many faces. Watch the grin. Watch them grin back at me. Wiggle the crotch. Watch them wiggle their back at me. Watch me grip. See and feel them grip me and each other. And know the seasons of the day of the monkey brigade. For I am their mirror and their legs are mine. Their eyes will see what my eyes tell them to see for the rest of our lives. .....