Moo to All of You

They push and push and the method becomes fixed. I am a bar and I am a blade. I sit unafraid, but poised for action. My voice returns the shot and regard of me is taught. I have surpassed that which is nothing, to find something in my chest that beats for the rain and stars. What relation? Cremation of FRIEND, not enemy. Deadly spots and poisonous wrots will bring you all to a boil, seeing nothing but your own demonic forms. The wafting steam seems to be Chinese, but it is Korea who screams so loud at me right now. Can all of you encapsulate the world without hate? Can you find the love of a man who only hates and knows you? What is it when a society goes against a being without knowing it at all? I move with my sneakers untied, unable to be a bride. I know my male side is rising, and that the MASTER is dead. He tries to become serpant in my head, today, but now I know that they were all gay. I moved in forms as male in their mind, thus crazy crazed viewing parlors escaped from the DOJO corners to Singapore opium dens. I do not lift a sword. I write a line and pick the eye in your forhead to shoot the truth at your lies and less than anything training in the arts of the martial lands of asia, and south america.