New shelter?

I'm listed as Denise Levine, staff refused to have me sign returning sheet, bed roster, and the bunk bed, I'm the bottom, can comfortably fall on the sleeper without harming the supporting structure.

The bed above fits inside the structure so as to easily collapse onto the lower bed and its support is  held in place by a thin strip of solder (LEGA-Italian fascist concealed party). Only four screws hold the top bed in place by the corner post. Two have nuts, and of the other two, one is barely well inserted and neither have threads. There is also an open hole above one of the hooks with the smooth screws, meaning nothing intelligible.  An alumni  Queens college pen exploded by pressure on me just the other day, the bed may function on the same principle. It has a sticker reading Property of Basics Housing Inc. 33111 do not remove. It is also marked on the leg by a horizontal line identical to one seen at a store Gothic something, in the 30's, to blame a worker at a similar store where I lived, in Auburndale. The Lega may be committing genocide of moderate Italians and others in the Bronx through the nearby police task force building. There were more than four unexplainable Fire Department of New York ambulances near one another. A house I walked by yesterday on Ogden with slats, by 167th, light yellow, with a bodega under it, did not have a metal plate vacancy sign bolted to the exterior with no real estate company listed, only a telephone number. In a week, the Upper West Side changed many storefronts overnight along Broadway, from 110 down to 70.

Clients in turn spy on me blowjob Nazi orange division cops connected to the 111 Precinct as well, who stalk me asking what parruccone, as reported by La Repubblica,  means through a Gonzales contact for the Chicago connection, claiming they will falsely arrest me as a terrorist because the newspaper covered the Red Brigades less than a week ago, can work it out with the shelter clients and had me stalked by their cheap 111 protected whores at Barnes and Nobles Starbuck's at Union Square to continue to slander me in public as a groupie, a mafiosa, anything but what I am so that my future is that of an informer.

A bitch is going back and forth to the bathroom all night since I started typing, this hours past, after she shut the lights off and luckily the talking wonder, the radio.

The clients know I stole a book, which I did not seems redundant a statement after twenty years. But I do fill houses still, so it never hurts.

Another roommate today said how she was wronged by society, while I was in the room: they need to stay conscious and gather a black mouths, nazicop blowjob team outside my door, because that way they can say that when they praised 9.11 and predicted another influx from inland, just today, I did it more.

Also: for Osama, a duo of euro females in their early twenties at Whole Foods, Bowery, made my name in the area to blame their insertion in FBI ranks on me.

Looks like a planned ethnic killing as well.
One also involving Dutch anti-Catholic sentiment, part of the slave, spice trade. And basics poisoning, droughts through channel for agriculture, such as in Egypt, coastal alterations by same.

They're shouting outside my door, "catholic", a "neger", get out, etc. I'm so far away from them, it's beautiful. If I die  they'll never understand who I am. And I don't care. They also admitted to being Lega. That's what counts. My writing infuriates them. They must be infant rapists and child murderers, serials. They become furious when you don't do as they say. Today I was joking with an employee. A client came by started shaking her fist at me, saying only a man can talk to him, only her as well. I disregarded, and that only elicited fury. It's just fantastic to see one's hatred of injustice clearly connected to its origin, its reality. You feel completely justified in hating them, and you feel freer, stronger, and with such a clear head about things, it's the most beautiful state of being, it's blessed, it's like seeing the world in a perfect state of lucidity, clarity. There's nothing like staring at  inhuman genocidal pigs in their eyes, in their faces, watching them be themselves, finally, the cover gone, the cover being completely different from who they really are. It reminds me of Paradise Lost, Milton's understanding of the transitions from deceipt to truth. Now sweetheart on the radio outside, by security, in Royal English Crown Nazi brothel hatred of green eyes scansion. Now it's quiet. My only wish is to bring as many f them as I can with me. Janet Napolitano hit the dust, so will they.

I have a rat scurrying behind my back, had one since I started typing. They actually sat next to me staring at the keyboard, taunting me with their cover that would let them spy on my passwords openly, enraged their brutality, their control does not determine what I do, be or say, that justice, equality,  determine my actions toward myself and others instead. I haven't stopped typing because they have no right to stop me. That's the difference between unconstitutional and constitutional behavior. That's the difference I want them dead and gone for.