I wasn't sure what you meant by what you said about the other thing.

But You’re One of Them

At first it is the smell, the sudden rancor and miniature hammer
A blowing asshole kiss, puckered as a dame often squeezes a grin
The rest of it is all madness, being taken with reason
Gulps of gin, glancing deftly at a meltdown,
The flash flood of tears
If it would rain
The blood would stop
Pouring, and our lips would return to their natural color

[Left behind and impossible to identify, again
As if you dated her, took a dip
A sacred explosion, things which lose and take away
The hidden group of summer and bathing
The last of the line in procession
Politeness the cure for the taste of ass
Middle and from the barren utopia of foresight]

What a relief, being back in a meltdown of madness, or something more fun, such as sugary cinnamon buns, overflowing with icing
And the burned part dropped down to the carpeted floor, brown
And the shoe could not grip it being polished wood, and lacquered in some strange hue
The seriousness of which would always come through the wherewithal to greet the days in a gloomy wakefulness caked in fingerprints, the one’s which nail you.
They know who they please. Themselves and the wisdom of blowing it all off,
The knocks at the door resembling the telephone ringing

The melancholy of the erection and the colored faces
Some people get enough sun, the water had tried to dry off
Summer spent herself in trying to stay awake long enough
The superiority of masks and the tyranny of misguided shrugs

The minor fools, major generals, squads of ignorant terror took to the field
Time resembled a lynx, some feline in any event
The drive to go nowhere was somehow in neutral
In the event of some crash you would open the door and flee
Escape the neutrality in someone else’s procured loss and counting the change.
The full belly, the slouch of her musk or pouch of some mama

You will imagine that there are roaches and some exoskeleton menace
Shimmering brown and spiked shell games, the audience to paranoia
Reason to behave as if I knew a snake once a year
Some shrub of some kind, the indecency of exposure
The clime of heavy weather, the felling of trees
Lopping off of dried leaves left for dead.

Very nice blog

Inside each stack frame is a slew of useful information. It tells the computer what code is currently executing, where to go next, where to go in the case a return statement is found, and a whole lot of other things that are incredible useful to the computer, but not very useful to you most of the time. One of the things that is useful to you is the part of the frame that keeps track of all the variables you're using. So the first place for a variable to live is on the Stack. This is a very nice place to live, in that all the creation and destruction of space is handled for you as Stack Frames are created and destroyed. You seldom have to worry about making space for the variables on the stack. The only problem is that the variables here only live as long as the stack frame does, which is to say the length of the function those variables are declared in. This is often a fine situation, but when you need to store information for longer than a single function, you are instantly out of luck.