Éramos o hacíamos en ángulos, fuese lo mismo si no fuese por un Norte de fríos o un Oeste en las tardes reclinado a fermentarse de los colores conque cierras los ojos o la mente, dark candy noct dark blue haze purple yellow and reds with pinks spotted in front of the imagination wide awake sulk in the shadow, awaits, awaiting, the angular velocity and or plus times the magnetism, mellow if we hadn't sweetened up, bitter if we had hadn't, sweeter or in other possible words of spicy, trying, vertically accelerated, crisp of a fire crossing, the longing for more words'stuck , here out the window our lines lives our colors true in the moment imaginations and true waiting lights of the next day yet in the shadows, over shadows, over shadows of eyelids, one over the other. Here the layers of what we had, statements from the past reviewed to our only witness. In every press a camera lens out waiting for a break of the shadows next to nothingness overstretched over the margin of the tables, one for our excesses and out plans over the night itself creaming considerations over time if it meant time over the night or if within it we escaped the lasting and the longing of a slower orbit like a volcano's pausity, like a remnant of laughter, like an open window when it was raining, the car out in the driveway, and I wasn't moving. The frames where off in the dark night | sky over the distances to Tokyo, Iceland, South to Chile, over where the air in atomic sprays or waited or spasmed in the acts to hear it with a force and an inner calm of expectation or to hunger it for achievement like it every day spared our souls for a taste of it in any Summer or Winter. The large box of linens and an open Window without courtains or desdain outside or a draft or a column of the chimney. The clouds were faster as We were on the places, running wild, eating heavy, stupor for the wildest day or night We could handle and We only washed where could Our Souls after taking in acts Our bodies to the days of sweating for a light of the outside|inside world problem solved and now extacy. No lights escaped or entered the room when we wanted, No time escaped or entered the room when we wanted. The water runs in the room and the kitchen. A stairway to a balcony or the edges of the curved ceiling. I had ocurrences of driving around under the snow or over desserts to rest on a machine for a distance for a distant amazement out without a need or out needing. I drove out to tank less than a quarter so, to totals, I could hear sound in another enclosure, so I could laugh or frighten myself after the real drops of temperature or after the commitment to stay it out if i wanted out over the border of the Window. In the Nights We drove to Her lasting fire, beyond more than three darknessess. Beyond the turn of the lights under a Storm to arrive to the heat and temperature where we over beyond the plans had it knew it ruptured over time for it lasted in hundreds of those memories felt it and for it more than we wanted our bond to | in | where we arrived days and nights no matter what having the intermittence of a flame redding the cauldron of what we wanted and She let me know it every time. I lost my sight for several days, about a week or an epoch of experience. We knew we wanted it and in Our Nature we already had it. For days the sense of pages of a book burning kept my memories for memories of the time in a place where I couldn't find that part of them to exist outside of darkness in where we were. Remind me we have water, the senses of who we are when the senses are dormant or hidden, the chapters of a want so past it sinned of nostalgic, to only norm within Us there, locked in stone, the screams of the Real were frighten, that we knew it and ruptured our souls over liquid spirit that recovers the binding energy to the Universe, that we knew we locked our steps into collapsing, who I to You that I have placed in Your hands My Soul, carry this, it was more than ten years before to the time, take Me from where I am into Your hands, that I know that I want, to, for the moment, to hold You knowing that I've entered outside of my subtle body to know You knowing more of Myself. We did ourselves blindly in the darkness. The fire was what we had to recover. Nuclear from the hidden Past was our Future and we had known it in other of pluripotent forms, what we had was a sound chamber.
I knew You in the Past from a Past, layers before what I can imagine, now in an ordinate time, I know, and that's an ending, and I know more, and that's an ending, and I know and that's an ending, or I close My eyes any moment and I end it. I knew You in the Past, from a Past before the days of yesterday, from where I've risen. High Up to see farther, from where I had seen far away that I now am, knowing the days. Conjure a tall building to make a sound, a reverb of harmony over height descending, and its height will never cease or the form of the sound I would like You to know, for the Future. Now this, in painting or in form, a store full of items each without a moment. A stone over each moment I will wait for You. A doing of something outside of time for the matter of the time itself. A large box holds warmth and candles, wildly if I open it, to a note.
I kissed her in set of twos, up to upward or down, stuck on a part, let me stay else over, down to where the day ended, a part to a kiss for her complete beauty. I said it how I could. Without a word for pressing and wishing I pressed, in retreat She pressed more knowingly, on a set, kitted, days, over the middle of the shirt, week or argument, in equilibrium.
Outside, music. A sparkle over red glass and I could look at Her out over the open door how she didn't wait for it, every day , and I thought about it hard ever since I awoke, that she had steps in front of me, stairs where she stood for me without waiting. She had Me, outside listening to music, looking. In this stage the matter of distances was eliminated, I had the strings over my whiskey, dark smooth cloud and I could listen that I knew the tone was already inside of Me, for a day, a week or a season repeated, until the dark of sound room cloud called out from me , immediately wishmet stretched thin met on the curvatures. I had seen her where I was and where she wanted me. We classified it at the ends, photographed permanent and kept in a safe, books over our spirits, in black and white or in color, writhed and reshot from our cellar to our cellar, vitrified eyes about it, colors of the acts, we kept them and looked at them regularly living till that end over a picture over an act over it, we were in them. I directed the cuts most of the time, high cuts revealing or unrevealing, angular straight horizontal for the waist, straight vertical curve of the waist, the camera set for time, if we knew it, we went for it and it happened tons of times that erotica was of our past and out positions without our bodies but we fell in them, letter over letter we were instructed by a secret desire of an intimate focus, entrenched intra on our relationship, luster of the life I wanted for Her in private. She let me do what I wanted over casings referenced on letters at the time and before it. And I paused to laugh about it because in Her I had transported myself to the next eternity, in love with Her, bonded to know every, unthinkable to qualify it.
Each day|night had three cuts, dressed, nonsense, and finish. I rested my style on practicality, on the first order, I desired what She wanted in silence, or loudly. My wilderness ran out looking, holding, to everywhere we were, unconventionally, we were All and strong. In front and behind the curtains we were all we wanted. We found out spaces and we lived them hiding where we could hide mostly nothing. To our normal the first cut was explicit, direct, with an overarching loop to a constant, the want for the strongest of yesterday's, capsuled in time, bore into the day, what She and I wanted, spiked knife to know it fixed or momentarily repeating one of the yesterdays, one of the yesterdays. Cut over cut over senseless. It only made sense the day cut in clothing, just a because of a yesterday and a because of lasting what She and I for the longest wanted. The dramas were liquid that I wanted through to intoxication to learn over hypersense Her reality and get carried into her through her essence inside my senses, that I woke up every day worked out about last time finishes. She had me going over each cut claire reddish jazz yellow hued purple over glass over metallic and repurposed to her taste, yes, processed and redone to salt to wine or to sprites to sweets, behind the tone, in one of my senses I opened to a laughter if it can be stated on a covalent trance moderated to last to perpetuity that I conserved until, yes, the other still, vertebral to the unseenunheard terraqueal [otherwordfortonality], orchideal in my botanic desire for a shot of nostalgia, senseless romantics, i could cut over nothing for a finish. That tone of red. Cut. Red. Redder. Bliss lat volcanic ash eyes, radicular akashic laughter, yes, for integrating distance and time, to the sound of the softest kiss i could conjure anywhere over the sky in daytime. The movements were fine, unpaused until I grabbed her late every day, you have been running, and have my running life forward and behind you. I loved Her the best I could and reveled in her Eyes, to last myself a stone under a thunder, I couldn't cease the waits, the waiting time, that o list of the moments, the run was scandalous over the edge of her lips, gel tasted out of us, to the neck out from everywhere, a touch of the hand outlasted a thousand years until i could again grab her. Cut out from a telephoto lens i watched out for Her. Out like everybody knew, the Planets were my chronometer. Lurion over the dusk when she wore black set all of the angles, the ones I missed without want for a camera, and took depth to underground, crouching crushing to destroy a vase of blood, she'd hit me square to lost lungs, that I would have it at an arm less than a quarter, less than fuller, I couldn't hold, less she had me so I could let go, to relax over it. In front of the fireplace, boiling square vases to see their color, sparks other than dark to clear my memory.
She had me Yeah over every cut. In pause, every time. These are the days where I remember where love began. Darkest of where I stood, alone, to think about You. The year to the date was the earliest of what I could desire overwhelmingly, to never escape it, that it was a solution to life, naturally magnetic. Through a distance, that i could stand over my own safety knowing why I carried myself to such a place, so i could wrap under my skin the distances, that which I couldn't write about, so I could take Her with Me, over the Next moment, so I would never feel alone, so I could wonder for the tell to the next drone, You, with a strike of the hottest copper, should swear to a love of everything, that You yourself could swear to know a word that I could tell You that You would know it in Your only words so that You when You step out from knowing can tell another drone that You weren't dreaming.
You've crossed my eyes millions of times, fort of leaf or stone crumbles to the sense of the height of the sky, fort of a knife that cuts what I would like to know hiding the fury of the elements right under me, so I cut deeper to know life itself ends over the limit of words themselves impossibly cut or formed over the sharp edge of the inner sword. From the trail I want you to know I set this road to an initiation, to the least of your senses to recover with ease, that you asked to know of this world the road to the next one.
Your questions of ends answered so you can destroy Yourself knowingly over the emptiness in the heart of this world, so this only thought can accompany you, we who know of telepathy, for you in your future, to carry the words of now, and the words you had for me unspoken, so you can wonder about this world knowingly, and your heart never suffers needlessly for love itself because if you look for it in how it reveals itself you could know that before you I bled over the promise to find what I hope you find in your end. Out from the absence of love you will know a repulsion to a matter existing with the open questions why, that the pain of the earth was so visible it turned the soul into its absence. Spare the number out of ten and you from your own efforts will know that from the absolute center of life where it is all given, to live is absolute and not a fraction, so those who dared impoverish the lives of the ten rested on a calculation of errors. Out from your want to know and lobe all things you would have to reject that which you know if you advise it to yourself that you derived the source of knowledge, but in a distant, if you are thankful of knowledge, all is given, even when less appears, i would have communicated to you, the value of that which is present can be infinite, and special if you show love. The prevention of love is unforgivable, but know that in this universe you have everything to find it, and that it finds you more than you look, in the forms of love that you will yourself reject and find that it rains and the sun and the stars rise to remind you of an eternal love that is above anything you can cease.
Green shorts, yellow lipstick, charcoal eyes a cut. A softer stream of glistened river water chromed over its fall over the sky to colors cut, to where I fell calmest over each earth texture, in depth I was there. Optionally hesitant about the sequence, present more about the act than its outcome, at its own instance one part was always finished, more about the preservation, it went on, Her , also a reflection to Her own image, Goddess, like Nature convective nal over its own beauty, that I could remind her haphazard with a complaint in my gut, how could I hold beauty with open question, of myself holding on to a moment, for a thought, a cascade of the living reminders, to me the miracles of known science, and the thrill of a new day knowing Her. I was resolved over one only look and the excesses over how time elapsed, the glitter in the objects how i expected them they were coat of lust over my retina that the flavors lasted breathing, and if She knew how I searched to capture her, overflowing the ocean cares for the land that it makes it rain without carrying all in its midst. Soaring through a flame I wanted melting, want of desire , of from myself, and the turnover, I ceased the days knowing for her, that i could claim another land to find hers and I stone to build her something. Loud the Sun shined at 3:00 in the afternoon over all of our contentions, that I could scream it out as hard as I could and the burst would only last a moment, but if I closed my eyes there were the hundred ways to turn around to each lasting moment. An equation from graphite functionalizes a paper meant for the senses: amazed, withdrawn, enthralled, mentally injured, lightened, to its own what it coul do without the leanings, with one accord, mathematics over the turns holding brittle glass, do we go home to one or more wants that are divisible, with a common denominator, or would we ever add to a house, a tree or a flag, the sacrifice of the efforts, over the dawn equal open questions, resourced to the truth process, time equals value, we knew over the cataclysms of generations of exchanging for attributions. Exaggerations procedurally from elementary comical that wouldn't pass intermedia beyond the probity of science the pugnancy for meaningless words on a paper never equalled the mathematics or the truth in knowledge. The wish for a coincidental dystrophia existed as a chancre over ever good, required restaments, begative criars of 18th century positional mimetics, never a doer, naught for philosophical, equal for the cost of cod or porcupine desiredly instantaneously exotic, served toasts with the lackluster of organic charms, the wives held the children equally in love and something in the air happenned. ACME detonated its resources to lastly make the roadrunner and coyote the willingness about possession. It was abominably basic, the process, that the intervention required a substance to alter perception of knowing per se, Boiled to the wants of a Thousand Jurors. In a jury the instructions limit the use of displayed information and just over 60 mph any car hitting a wall results in a fatality, to the certainty that there are missed realizations in an intolerable fantasy conjured from multitudinal obsolete angles in function. Isn't it a formality of reason Our executions, that honor versus dereliction would have been astronautical, that a piano preceded a robot, and excesses were matched with feasts, and a book preceded a computer, that it would surprise some that because of culturality a terminal is more efficient than the other terminal for decades but the fashions change in agreement. Didn't we need a Smoke or a Coffee. Realism in functionality of 20th century philosophers is prohibited by limited pragmatism in functional public entities for multilateral negations within pluralistic democracies for lassitude towards acceptability of mediocre oligarchy that is an inevitability of unregulated markets within large poor populations. Even four chord major heptatonic cadences have been redistilled to what is an apparent regeneration of a designable group every year. At 40 I have heard the sequence over 25 times, that novelty resides behind the willingness to accept a problematic as real: that Realism has been dissolved into a Fraudulent Metafantasy, that working resources are now scarce as a product of the lack of realism. Closed loop economics were contiguous with unemployment and climate catastrophism until the toxic water level of detergents reached 500 times the accepted level, and rising. Closed loop economics were contiguous with crumbling infrastructure without offerings of dignified jobs for improving the looks and feel of the City. Closed loop economics were coexistent to healthy collaborative workers without background knowledge accepting of a track of penitenciary laboriousness without a versus. Out of the Thousandfold discographic discord, a weekend in a Seaside Cabaña translated to a job cut continues to form the horror of noncollaborative practice to Our regulatory standards. I have seen more crystalline waters. Negotiation to match inflated costs of living is Normally Just in the Judiciary [ I also Count My Fantasies ], that the Legislative process Injunctively and Preventively OBLIGATORYLY requires Judiciary Intervention to Criminal influence and as the requisite mediator in Our Constitutional Democracy, that I question, why doesn't Budget Negotiations pass a True or False Test under a Federal Criminal Court, needless to say, to involve the Supreme Court in eliminating the reincident submission to a particular functionary' want instead of a True 10 year plan with oversight. I also recant about the Parliamentary Veto as a tactic that ignores the Judiciary in determining specific funding for specific projects, even the considerations of defunding the military, or making military funding the driver, as is, of technological development and jib creation, that would make a job creator a True General.
Corporatively a believer that valued behavior treasonous to labor platforms benefited the mission, that effort without guided optimization would note outside or inside to the other remitted operator that a third of competitors was the only albeit competitive condition to a rabid cancellation of biting efforts to a word, a hyphen, less fractionate than a period, less fortunate than an order, that I object in My form of writing desdain that i have to wash my thoughts over the totality of nature to rinse clean persistence over what are sick stains even invisible in nature. The rabbit and the tortoise betting asked the other animals if they had seen one of them or the other go to war excusatory as a production mechanism, or that the calculator of them the fastest could argument for a string of numbers tha the beauty of all of the animals over a day of seasons could be objected against the model of all of our studies, that perhaps we were older in the respect of life to our planet, that in comparison to our delusions of systematic progress, the animals were trascendental, and all of our technology would whisper to a stone in the sky, goodbye, fraud to a belief of involution to the necessity of an old man in a chair for him nothing else could survive him other than shallow entertainment of one channel, while everybode else was watching, beyond the awskening from shock for another necessity, survivalism over the illusional and a movie without an escape, that was the entertaiment, to another complaint would have been enough for a one to correct in discipline the more autonomic impulses of an incorregible biblical character matching a god to its own morality.
Over a telephone or a glyph , the most incredulous of buyers, obviously, there wasn't another end or a limit over where other groups communicated differently. Plus than more solutions visited over witnesses outside the box of television, how new, what a novelty. I did not ask for Romantic or Actuarial or Industrial or Capitalist or Communist to versus, over one phone call, do you have this product, yes it works better, now I also wanted it, from a past that I could recover from the utterance of a prayer to disgrace that i could find multiplied over a strung channel of communication, not mine or any others.
Screaming Lips and Screaming Nails for the Cut, started for the purpose of night, late for dinner, I couldn't remember I we had it. Lust pure for the contrast over the series, purle, yellow, purle blue, indigo, purle , aquarella, that metallic acid, could background to match the desire. As often as I could ever want it I turned to it, because it lit up early an expectancy of carnage. Glass vitreal tilted the shot without additional requisites like smoke or fire could do it. Minted waxes of the line lifted the purpose of each shot to a subtle experience , given to the moment we wanted, this in this position, for this time, locked up, drinks in the cabinet, occluded to only our review of a lens and a capture, defined wanted and had, to reapear over the open window sounding a nocturne of the drench that happens when the tightest privacy is desired. The cuta where in threes, the purpose, the development, and what occurred to vert it over another idea as it happened. Out of focus I would reappear minded to the spirit it self sublimed to what would be the motif of the shot. A pair misarrainged , long term exposure, the lights of the abstract. Down the other streets, embraced, looking out wide, a quiet afternoon of Fall, not this street, the next one, 5 bars, and a way home covered in the dark green of the trees, to the steps in city where I had seen, Us, overflowed meta to the drive, somewhere halfway home, to a wall, to a corner, to a rhythm. Eye over slanted Eye, in the freeze, where I could give warmth, if I could make of the street an entry home, we regardless claimed it. Her taste of the charred ash in ethyl to where I with nothing intoxicated, to a vase to arms, because the moment wanted everything. Heavy, I would restart the nights like this with a fracture of an oil or hydro. Let's go here, and it would be warm regardless anywhere I could tell her a secret.

A chapter on preventing the exploitation of emergencies...

A chapter on the Fundament of Legalities and Procedure (Processess) versus Wants...

A chapter on Puerto Rico: Over the Flag and Existentialist Capitalism and other challenges of Sectarianism versus True Nationality. Puerto Rico exists over the symmetrical landscape of thousand of mountains raised from the subtle gravitation of multiple stellar points of origin that together with convective and laminar flow resulted in the layers and regions of distinct soil and atmospheric layers constituting the Hydrodynamic Flow that generates the Island Ecosystem. The Explosion of Water from Subterranean and Condensation Nucleus existing over the Retroevaporative Flux generated from the Green Vegetation drives the directions of flow of water that in Puerto Rico are visible and characteristic of the climate generated over the main chains of mountains.

The Divisorials of Identity generated from colonial and active feudalism are characteristic from the management of resources across municipalities. The Quest for Sovereignty and Idendendence on municipalities is not rational to the valuation of Natural and Other Forms of Resources. Puerto Rican ownership of Infrastructure and Patent Development rested over the availability of job generators claiming the intellectual proficiency of Puerto Ricans, exteriorizing resources without solving the generation of colonial poverty. The decline of Asequibility at a decline with the rise in Poverty related from the conflicting strife of job generation evidentiary to the evolution of a feudal capitalism central to a plight for external ideations of solutions isn't only verifiable in audits, it resulted in a rise of special colonialism out of an disparate understanding of the management of resources from dogmatism restive to the generation of solutions of Puerto Rican ingenuity. International involvement into Puerto Rico was cohorted unilateraly from the absence of it in itself.

Money could buy Nationality and it would've existed as syndromic of neocapitalistic pseudodemocratic inflective delusions that capitalism would generate any improvement in services when the asequibility power was so far external that the delusion was chained to the delusions of the other-in-chains.

Colonialism in Puerto Rico is begative-micrographic: the classic begative is replicated outside of the boundaries on the form of veritable contagion as an inevitability of system management pesimism. Only ask a seller of Nationality for help with anything and the void is quantifiable and visible. Or look at the ideography of sectarianism. In the recent generational history, the Island was transformed from extreme poverty to extreme poverty with a car, and a rastrer of debt. The defenses of the Nation rested in the desdain of Puerto Ricans as second class citizens or the Humidity and Heat of the Beautiful Island. With the Capabilities of 100% reducing The-Cost-of-Cost to Zero, anthropogeny met classism to the mystery of the officinal power struggle. The constant of administered Federal Funds to the Complacency of Limited Asequibility resulted in the use of Puerto Rico Control Volume as the Model from which transmissible political contagion was either received or emitted to other generational observers that Puerto Rico was working as a good model of the knowledge that consumption to the Present Model of Production, classless to Capitalism or Communism, or Versus, the generational communication of what would Constitute a National Product met the calcitration of the illness that Puerto Rican land and Properties make a market for the continuity of anything absent Nation, Nationality, Identity, Annihilation.

Make 50 phone calls.

The calculation of the amount of resources in one cargo ship is a Constant of Astronomy of the Void in Nationality festering in colonialists covering up for anything modern about Puerto Rican liking the United States.

How would our products reach one of two hundred countries? The Study of the Limits to any Practician would encounter the Limit that those living under a fraud to feudalism existed on one of the Catastrophies of Feudal Thought Calcitration, not excepting its existence outside of the Island yet True to the Solvancy of The Matter. Without an Explosion of International Involvement into the Island, the diagnostics of the atrophies of fractionated cooperativism would remain more visible to the documentation of observers far out, of those in South America and North America who could learn the most of this model.

The Hysteria of tracing legislation to the Throw Up of the 1898, Jones Act, Marshall Act, inclusively asking any other country for Sovereignty, of countries with admitted Independence and Nationality returns the Minima that a large fraction of quitters to Nationality worked under the assumption that Nationality would exist after it's surrender... If no one in the United Nations or elsewhere answers this call then the viral replication would not result in the Independence of any Nationality to a Real Control Volume with a real Continuous Value of Land, to Total Land, to Total Resources with Currency.

The dysphagia of a [2^N] experiential isn't real yet a plenty of cancer exists without healing.

Out of this level of understanding the working systems and tours without windows with people dying needlessly. The responsibility of Nationality to protect it does not survive the divisorials. The Dynamo is real: Puerto Rico orders its own Industry and Construction to its Independence to the Cancelling of any Debt with any other Country from the generation of debt from the mechanism of the generation of poverty to sickness.

A chapter on Derivations from Fundamental Forces...