A Dear John Letter

I seem never far flung from thoughts supreme and a my/their/your/importance to things at/of a conscious cramped mind. If thinking is Activity,  Thoughts, action streams that flow from equal amounts of "Spirits" aplenty-a necessary catalyst and music, yes Music the ****** of word birth, unknown, exacting, pure, coital corporeal, clean corded from an ancient womb world, then I am a premiere primary post partum poet, pious and plentiful, panoramic and primal---- least of which I follow the noneany standards of prose polished rule constraints of useless ninny-nanny nonsense frivolity of any/all nil/nothing of menial meanderings of less viable word wit-tent. Everything id intended by therefore their "crowd" creators, lest us/we behold that soulless saturated stingy sick mass raptures of wordly whiny wimp wis-dumbectomies, courtesy of ignorant intenders that soils its rhymes via elementary elusive exaggerations for the masses of asses with vocabularies of molasses  when they read-listen-write-wrong rewrite a pontious plight in that life Ass-ignment ignorant driven illicit class of uncreative writings of Life. Tragedy 101