Try logic, thick ankles (try fishing). Shut up, tortilla head, fuck off. Expunge, droop, go solo, spell it wrong, cut some farts, smash it all down together. Did you use the peach scrub? Negate the anguish, about the slaughterhouse jobs, not working out. Dream it, feel it, be it? I don’t know where I am, or what, or who, but I can be there, I can be that guy. I think I’m starting to really die. We all sort of went off the deep end, with him. My high school diploma was used to wrap fish. What the hell is it, that they’re doing, out there? I keep thinking that that one poster is still up there. I strip walls, file papers, write nonsense, eat and sleep at odd hours. I used to wish I was you, there’s no time for that, anymore. Do you want to know what she did, next? Slept. You can’t add anything else in, in that fashion. It was exactly like the Gulf of Mexico, inside of my head. I cherished what little I had. Someone, somewhere, is yawning incessantly. I can’t even take my coat off. The chaos will un-do your shoelaces. The thoughts keep coming, like radio songs. Try to make it all work, despite your stupidity. Find out about it, unhook yourselves. Oh, you want a latt¡? The tilt was going upwards. We used to color, now look at us! Hork (make a decision, cast off)! I urinated all over myself (sex). We then decided to try to do something (it didn’t work). Nobody will help you, either. Too into it (obsession). Market this as a sneak peek into a schizophrenic mind. The dregs are at the end. She lived in between two blocks, on a sort of, “add on” street. This is why, and how, I died. Our brains needed some time to reprogram themselves. We went to the car wash. Sketch things as they occur, no sooner. Some of the references to that, were removed. Blink and you miss it, paint over it, whistle at it. A thick film, covered my face. Some people waste less than others. Raw onions, afraid, parry, parry. Know what burned down, insider/outsider? Reach for the pencil sharpener. What if her eyes did light up? When right on the edge of breakthrough, most people go to sleep. My id is not the I, of that nonsense. He never said a word, one year; the next, you couldn’t shut him up. If you weren’t good enough, you wouldn’t be doing it. We shared the same psedo-ailments. I saw how all the ordinary books were, and tried to go a little further. It isn’t gonna’ get better, magically, sweet pickles. It was like watching yourself die, from across the room. He just connives the pants off of them, and he’s lucky, calculating, stupid… you know how it works. Fun does not apply, and shouldn’t, after thirty, or even thirteen. She slit her wrists with a plastic knife, no real damage was done. She gagged herself with a plastic spoon, and I had to clean it up. It was a panacea, all that sunshine. Read, later, write. The clock is broken, because I broke it. We always drank the one dollar specials. The dancetarium was full of same off white, Olympics participants. All the worthwhile shit, you give to yourselves. I should hide, but I’m not going to. She felt overlooked, in some way. A fanatical delirium, that turned psychotic. The dream was about serenity, about enough, being enough. Crush it up into a ball, now. Most of this, was written drunk. Walk over to the light fixture, smile broadly. It was spin the bottle on the donkey, or whatever (we couldn’t play). I wrote in the letter that I was totally sick of myself, now, that wasn’t exactly true. Someday, it will be able to be purchased in a store. I had a sense of humor, that stops. We were in the garage, dumbfounded, looking at what had happened to the car. The occupant has vacated the premises. He tore up the boxes, and threw them in the dumpster. Fumble all the way across the room, to retrieve something. I’m uncommon, I’ll say that much about myself, which is saying too much, as is. Disaster strikes those who seek it out, but only after they don’t want it anymore. There’s no going any higher, dude, you are up there. Doing character assassinations in the logger’s lounge? Beware the people from the side. Who was I/am I, trying to fool? Pondering, pandering, thinking twice, in the wishy-washy tree, at ease with what’s easy. Lingering around, thinking about what happened to the car, another cigarette. Urine on my hands, and pants. I really don’t like the way that my body, feels. There is so much to hide, that I just leave it right out in the open, nowadays. Just like some kind of deformed heart. Scrape the food out of the drain, so the water will go down, faster (year after year). Do not pose, when that asshole walks by. After this, I’ll start all over again. We’re no longer being rewarded, for being full of shit. Handbags were checked, experts stood by. Those who are still scratching, will inherit New Jersey. The ability to communicate, reason, gets lost. They always recognize me, no matter how much I change. “A new beginning,” I practically snored. Wedge in! Lettuce heads, intimidated. Zen is life, as such. As if married, I stood there, insecure and unstable, emotionally, diseased, etc. I try to consume my mustache. We’ve got to shape up, see the fake plants for what they are, explain the horror. The so called Buddhist solutions, didn’t impress anybody at the party. They already did it, now, it’s our turn! The one’s I hate, will hate this. Distill it, further. We’re gonna’ go, totally. We all get caught doing sleazy things. Sometimes, I see things. I’m out of my mind, and into yours. What about this pastry chef? I couldn’t even get the fire started. Take the turnstile door, give us someone, or something, to squeeze. Vomit into the backed up toilet, with the turds floating in it. Let go of my (they repeat themselves) hands. Try to make sense of it. Like vibrant red, in the middle of winter… She is kind of, a bitch. The sports fans, kept clapping. Peat moss, was spread around. Shift the emphasis, set the table. I know paper mach¡. The blight looks better to me, than all the new construction. Every single one of you people, is selfish to the core, to the tips. She knows why I acted strangely. I didn’t do anything wrong, which is wrong, in a way. I’m being used, to make other people’s lives easier. The baton was dropped, nobody cheered the team on. The old kiln, is long gone. This is how to squeeze. No halo, in here. The hotel lobby had such fine and extraordinary couches, that I began to blush, and feel out of place. Do it, say no, try again, fall out, stand up, wake up, sit down, screw you (I’d just assume be in the hospital). We are all supposed to pretend this, and that. The rushes were underexposed, the stars, overexposed. Nobody cares, anymore (just as well).
It isn’t lifelike, fresh, confusing enough. It’s already been compressed. All the chocolate Easter eggs, are broken. Leave the room, now. “How dare you,” was all I could moan. They show off their shoes, all some people have to do, is stand there. Let the kerosene cover me, completely. What we all need, is something. Whatever the medicine was, it didn’t work. The truth must have an airing (well, who’s to say what that is?)! This is, in a sense, my book of revelations. We’ve been “enlightened,” before. It was an accident, with an unknown model (it was as if it wasn’t happening). We all got so stupid, so fast. I have no clue what’s on there. Naked girl is back again, the alternator is fucked up. Recall your childhood doorbell’s. I can’t seem to get a good grip on this fish. The Christian Admirals stormed my room in drag, took off my phony space helmet, and called me a goofball. Someone told me I was supposed to be dead, I apologized. What sounds soft and mushy, probably, is. Improve on the ruin, in the Pro-west library, Incorporated. The pressure is on, the pressure is always, on. Walk that damn mouth off, butter box! I can feel my own nothing (inside). She lived in the shadow of the old ballpark. Something happened, subliminally. The carrot is dangled, we chase it, in vain. Use a fresh, clean doily. Cross the breech, trip over the cord, be the governor, the obvious is no option. You have to begin. Act free, it just might occur. Some kind of new voodoo, did me in. The guy mailed it to the moon (the secret, government moon base). Look at the details. The spoon dried onto the surface of the dish. My rhythms are mathematical. Touch yourselves! Postponement is like some kind of powder, to make you vomit. Punch yourself (hard), make a singular statement. She fired weapons at the tree braches, indiscriminately. You let it go on too long, it’s poisoned everything. Get clear and silky, go to the past tense (yes, words). Stop shaking that damn towel. Meet me over on the other side of the wall. You’re Chicano! I went into a sex store and bought a plastic vagina, for twenty two dollars. I am the scarecrow, and that’s not just a bunch of romanticized nonsense, anymore. There is still a lot of good shit, left. All it is, is conflict. On we go, to nowhere (and beyond). I wrote something, “far out,” but forget what the hell it was. Chew the pencil, until it’s gone. If I fall down to my knees, well, so be it. Soon enough, some kind of respirator will be wheeled in here. I’m trying to get my life in order, but it’s a long process. The accordion/bagpipe, collapsed, like a dying goose. Clang some shit together, the time to begin the beginning, is here. They hire disabled people to wipe down the tables, and hand out napkins (to save money). Try cynicism, try, for once, to make sense. I feel like someone who has been tortured, treated, and released. Take it all the way, to the end. We are determined to fool ourselves, stain our pants. Man, I knit, I embroider… see? Still water’s run shallow, sometimes. Say, homopsychotic (fry my brain). I’m told they will foreclose. Well, shopping is just so dang convenient. I’m not too social. Ignore who you are. Go down to the apiary. I caught her, pleasuring herself. The walkie-talkie’s were just plain, neato. Now, it is known, like a swab. Go get the mop pail. Everyone ignores me, all the time. Fear death. The little slut’s, expensive. We just never look right, when we’re dead. Satisfaction is just a heave and a dribble, away. Revel in the flux/void, there is no forever. The answer is absurd, like Thomas Jefferson, drunk. The goldfish has been flushed. From here, I can see the crumbs on the counter. Good morning, bacteria (feel fresh, all day long). Plug in some appliances, feel way into the blackness/bleakness, be staid. What excites you people? There is incredible beauty in this world, it’s just that it can be awfully hard to see it, sometimes. Once whatever it is, abates, it will be time to be concerned. Send some gifts, do it, and see what it was that you did. It’s all self fulfilling prophesies. I want to be crazy, and do believe strongly, that that means I want to be like everybody else, fit in, etc. The best years of my life were wasted, writing this book. Now, at least I have a book to show for it. In a way, this book is/are, the best years of my life, posthumously, so to speak. China would just decimate us, in any conflict. My mess is my stink, and I’ve got to clean. The swing set has long been out of commission. The pawns get sacrificed really early in the game, for the benefit of the bigger pieces, that sweep in from behind. I’ve got to re-train myself, to stay out of the women’s footwear section. All the good ideas have been taken. Visions come and go. The toilet began to back up, thank goodness for prostitutes. Help him to break away from his set patterns. Useless space, unmoved movement, vicious dispositions, scarring truths. Ah, the monthly guide to the forms, types, genres (poof!). It’s all as boring as Edna. Play connect the dots (who cares?). Applause filled the auditorium, and we thought, briefly, that there was more to life than there really is (or, was). As if our hands could deflect the bullets, we attempt to defend ourselves. I feel like a loser, when you walk into the room. Sustained, sustained, these illnesses will not let me function (nobody likes a psycho). He flooded the toilet, fled the scene. Cross out, and cross out, until there is nothing left. The “secret club people,” will not ever let you in. The grasshoppers are dead, now. Offer no possible solutions. Dissect the so called guarantee, in legalese and small print. Refuse resistance, cripple the creeps, divulge every secret, damn them all. Sweet as a week in a germ. I ate my own nothingness, confused eat, with ate, smoked the damn dream pipe, solved riddles. Orbit the systems, use your stifling obscurity. You are biased, scruffy, and bloated. It isn’t up to us, anyway, at bottom. At some point, the floor mats were thrown out of the moving car. Did somebody say, gouda? There was a thought, while blowing hard into the plastic tube, attached to the machine. Let’s get out of this huge mess, unscathed. We are dying as we live, in the moment (always). Put together a montage.
