Dead Squeaks in Confrontation

I discovered some random writings back in 1999, it was something I wrote to a friend; I am still trying to figure out what its about.



In where the souls, freed from the grasp of
twilight.......I like to play with those ornamental candles........
free from where.....like Jimmy and Janga......and Kadoodle---....
winter merry.....come work at KK factory......make plastic components...the digital of the West....where the Fat Lady works in
flatted factory....dignify the verified.....like code words......
talk to your heaven....talk to your husband.....
bleeding gums on the loose.....sprinkling body odour.....love..is love..we try to compensate amongst the tortured souls.....like lipsticks...
from Seremban to Skudai....I move like a crocodile....
hoping....hoping....which rag that radiates....in cool fridge....
or musical composer pulling cork screw.....tits for dads...he watches
porno in a view-cam..
like a boy in the bag...slowly ....slowly.....behold the truth....
slowly we liquify from her western trade...brutality of eastern consumer.....
he likes to drive in his big yellow vehicle...like a King...with his lifesaving jacket.......come doodle in your diddle.......tinggle the tangle.....twinkling the wankling......hate that Disco Brat.....a cultured disease of desire...for people who-don't-know-how -to...
cushioned seats for Dingos......Transit the island with tight seats like sexual perversion.......galore for the perverts of the new wave......
thanx....gracious to melody and Harmony.......