May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!
Why don’t you come out and love, staying playing, trying things, falling in the middle of the universe? Hey, have I bored you yet into all kinds of ridiculous poems too hot for being quick flush with the next opening of emotions? I bored you into tanpanic trance, gazing with mirrors reflecting my cock into a private satisfaction of drawing you into juicy molten colors of the bodies melting into one another, just doing, just cuddling, just living! It is easier to get people to kill you, to being willing to die to-morrow for some goofy bugs than it is to convince them to live like horses, young kids. Why is that? But I always try! Looking behind this iceberg, let us go towards women who pleased without separation from humanity and love staying playing with my cock. The Powers Prophet gains reality and control, rising out of isolation, separation, fear of the other, doubts about personal worth, and manufactured undergrowth of desire, despair of drawing blood. This Powers prophet was toxic cloud that the brainwashing and manufactured flaw of souls puking over the pond of taste of rotten fast food poisoning and control of life in the ravioli cans. Point of responsibility is any body, organic or inorganic. Waves of reality pass through the points of responsibility within each body, being influential affected by each body, being swept along with several sailors surrounded by profound attention, attraction and universal admiration between rubbing against all kinds of human beings. Is playing you into juicy experience of life turning you unbutton all morality and love, bringing the brainwashing to an end. I could ask you to feed me, give me drink, help me in the bathroom comfortably. But if I ask you to make out with my cock, to share physical pleasure and love with me, all discordant falsetto cries of alarm would create uncomfortable suspicions seriously ill scene of destruction, terrible apprehensions and words that escaped beneath love. Why is that! True, we are hitting bottom of this inner flesh, outer door of communication between us. But! But don’t worry. There is a funky basement under the bottom where we will wing it! So stay! Staying in here now without separation opens up virtue of every gigantic sea-serpent and universal admiration between rubbing aroused after forever and perhaps the space of regret can disappear and perhaps after all these foolish old battles are extremely booked up, we could be called unicorn. May happen about getting more handsome proposal and such eye-beams as always amazing how easy life is! Just show up and stay and be conscious and willing, knowing how easy it would be to see desire of this inner flesh. Wear only this inner flesh. I go in to the most dangerous neighborhoods alone after midnight among various gangland surfs and willing to follow fate destined with mirrors of self-confidence and perhaps the unusually metaphysical inspiration. I go into the ultimate midst of a gang of destruction and start slap-bang asses of big Hyena-swines giggling joyfully and they start moving their claws gnawing away from my dreams. These men who are dear boys can’t believe my own heart laughing. I look helpless, vulnerable as much astonished! But they don’t smell fear of contact in me. They smell from my dreams intensified self-confidence and willing to live like horses, young kids and whomsoever approached me to-night will play with me! I don’t care about being harmed, being influential, being swept along into their formidable cyclones. Actually I don’t make sense to them. So they swayed from side to side. Don’t actually know what I can do! Nothing regular now apply at these proceedings on whims! If you are game, you unbutton all kinds of ridiculous poems for me with wide open eyes from my mind. Doubtless they went running out fast, cutting like these bold companion. Stretched out floating, a fart waft from between your legs wide open taking refuge in my nostrils quivering. Disgust, excuse! Naw! The ultimate reality! Sexy hot girls fart. You are sexy, hot! And panting you sit there legs wide open and smelling your own fart waft up and enjoy it. That is something rather impossible in Hollywood fund-raisers and widespread Media attention and stimulate the apathy of the temptation and certainly my nostrils! Quivering flesh, I surrender to you. I have searched for a farting sexy hot girls. And finally here you are!