an automatic message:

solitude is multitude.
nice one, nice one, mice won.
in the white hot impossible.
i am afraid the world might be an end.
if i wasn't ridiculous, i could have been a pompous bourgeoisie twat.
hidden in the mad ridden youthful waste of me.
there is deep faith in making nonsense out of everything deemed correct and complete.
don't temper with mad love.
dozens of songs at one go, the other evening.
in the meantime,
wolves are eating each other over a sheep in a wolf's clothing.

Tags: surrealist poetry, surrealism, poetry, poet 9, poet of sound and image Kino, literature, revolution of the mind, map of the universe,