It all comes down to what it comes down to. The decision to leave seminary school, was an easy one. Spin your conundrums, right out of whack, fall down to the floor, and don’t get back up. Where is this sunken amusement park, or what not? Yet another K, in the column by my name. The dead pheasants lying on the ground outside of Story’s Grocery. Contend, repair, mumble, reach, roll over. I am getting sick of following the rules, and obeying the law. The building comes down, the friend moves away. It’s better than making labels. Take apart your clothing, sit back and enjoy the show, uncover the “big deal.” Our minds all go sour. I refuse to throw my shoes at the clock tower. It melted in her ass, dissolved before our eyes, defined the status quo. Out the door, with human reason, go beneath the rest of the other. Avoid as much as you can. Don’t let that be found, fella. The movies all suck. I did try to keep my area clean. Whatever you want to do, do. The dead seem to rule the airwaves, the athletes were the cream. Bleach your senses clean. They all sing, “sustenance,” he bellowed. The idea of what I was going to do, is lost. Answer me, you cocksucker! Into the clapboard shack. Fresh tar! Call it failure, incompetence. Discern between the two wigs. There is no survival. Don’t jinx us before we get to see the fashions change. The project came to an abrupt end. This is why we can’t! I can’t go on like this. The language gets worse, the sex, better. More old trends, revisited. It’ll all be forgotten, soon enough. There was a time, when time meant more, but was used less wisely. My hand smells like pumpkin. It’s our guilt, that does us wrong. Wear the green pants into town. Too much alcohol, no more fun. With my arms outstretched, I fell. The lost will be discovered, eating celery, someplace else. No more “wonderful wand of joy.” My tongue was out, I didn’t say it in English. All we were doing was living our lives, and trying to do so, more abundantly. Where is the thrill, what is the excitement all about? She said yes, just yes. You took pictures of my girlfriend (naked). We’re not gonna’ make it that far. What was it, that happened exactly, driving up to Camp Roota-Rota? We’re all out of control. Superficial learning, will not last. It’ll drive you mad too, soon enough. You and I didn’t do what we were supposed to. Ah, the birds, turning on a dime in their flocks. He was caught with his pants down, and penis, up. The raffle ticket was misplaced. Sputtering lunches, expensive slide projectors, self sabotage (with a hair shirt on). The lion has a sword, man (grab the watermelon). Get rid of your “friends.” You know damn well, what orthodox is. Know the right and proper thing(s) to do. Some say that faith, is nothing more than foolishness. Rain or shine, it happens, it occurs. When you find out that you’re hollow, drink milk at the counter, while listening to that song. We’ve got the “separateness.” Rectum outside of this sphincter (pain). Our tactics don’t work, anymore. What usually ends up happening, is nothing. My secret is no secret. This is why we’re so tired. Demand it! Eventually, there is nakedness. I suck totally, I am a moron. Lick around the toilet. The product slipped out of her hands. It was lots of laughs, but not a lot of good times. They can smell it on you. The devil licked my asshole clean. The apples rot on the table, as we starve. Acting clever on the porch, no more. Clean your teeth, fix your rear end. Contact the fink, the Buddha too, is bullshit. Go wild with the cling peaches. Possibilities (impossible). Baby, it’s all just talk. Stay tangible and nasty, there isn’t a second to lose. Edward Dorn humped me (Sally, slept). We know our own shoelaces. If you want to hurt, hurt. I’ve righted the wrongs, and wronged the rights (somehow). Dong the ding, and bing the rell. A new Dao is in order. Let this not be some “coming out party.” My chin is missing, my hair is gone. Down Michigan Avenue, snorkeling. All will be erased, in one, glorious swipe. The fact is, that I’m seeing things, now. This is the ridiculous cattle run, that I didn’t know was going to happen. Forward thinking marches, off the pier. It’s like an umbilical cord. So many years of cess, and shit, and filth (flushed). I kicked what was in front of me, until I broke my foot. The thumb rubs it out. Resist the donuts. The answer is clearly, no. Unzip your fly, and whip it out (it seems to be determined). At first, it seemed sexy. Snap me out of this. Wait, you’re hurting me. We are not yet artists. Return the serve (peanuts for sale). Be totally (feminine) emaciated (there are some things which can’t be faked). Buy this book, just to piss them off. We felt as if we had to do something. This side of town is surprisingly, graffiti-free. An ostrich attacked me with it’s powerful front legs, and it’s beak. The set is in shambles, such disarray. The periphery wasted me, threw down the rag. There will be more stress. It’s all been crushed down, enough. I don’t believe in any of this, all that strongly (I’m very lucky). You know, in all honesty, what this book reminds me of, is sitting in a train station. There are no more bottles, anywhere. We no longer want to show what’s underneath. Please, stay away from my face/pants. The abstract, hallucinating gases, are careening. ASAP, or never. He could be talking to himself, or his girlfriend (but I don’t see any girlfriend). There were no cars on the road. I observed people, with lives. A pork roll, sat. They’ll x you out of the barbeque, early on. Blow my mind, I dare you. Most people are so damn boring, you don’t even want to know. Yes I’m full of fear, and very afraid. We want more sleep! Mental maelstroms… I sense a disaster, coming on. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We wasted time, in too many after hours things, that went on way too long. The numbers haven’t changed (you have).
Where are the pencils? You’ll know who you are, soon enough. Is it really so good? Body disposal will soon become a big, big problem. Too much prep, not enough cooking. Smoke my essence. They don’t cut, they pinch them off. It sounded like someone banging logs together. Everybody enjoyed hamburgers! The streets seemed to glow. What will they be wearing? I also hate my extreme clumsiness. Pinch my stamens, mutilate me. Everybody hates their goddamn jobs. You’re gonna’ tattle on me? Get into the funshine. Damn, I sent a query instead of a book proposal. It doesn’t take too long. I can’t remember any of the films. The transistor is in there. Strip down the arranged. Who really knows what the fuck to think about such things? I can’t go on, I don’t want to. Nudity seemed to be a part of the celebration. All of us are brainwashed. The book had a beautiful orange cover. My stroke is already happening. Do subtraction! You took my virginity from me. These are my collapses. There were nature centers (plural). I admitted it, but shouldn’t have. It was as if he were drunk. I can’t sit straight. It’s not so bad (necrophilia). Me and my L-dopa (autobiography). I went overboard, I always do. Nobody will ever care, call me “just a passenger.” No, I cannot, in any way, control my goddamn self. There was no interview. The table turned into water. Nothing ever happens. Think about something else, go to the bar. It was me, who shit on the library steps, way back then. Know where the arms end. Then, drugs were brought out (for a price). No contact. It was no accident (nothing is). How did you manage to find my stash? It’s better this way. I just sat out in the car. She sensed that I was in the throes of orgasm. It’s a criss-crossing way of doing things. Be like the Kansas City moaners. Survive me, save me. I feel different, today (changed). Have you ever had sex with a girl (um, stammer)? Hi ya, copper! Note, shorter sentences. Do you really know what it’s like to be dead? They fix us this way (broken). Sometimes, I get so high from intellectual pursuits, that I scratch myself until I bleed. Let it take care of itself. I’m sick of writing small, I’m sick of everything. There is nothing that we can do, about any of it. The sign looked like a damn bus. We’re trained in school, to learn to tolerate boredom. Go ahead, forget my name. The forest was covered with fire extinguisher foam. The princess Di window was obsessive. Our souls are glorious, multi-layered, omniscient, omnipotent (nonexistent). Damn, it’s happening again, it’s like computers automatically add typo’s into the manuscripts. You don’t have to wait long for a good line, but it’s still too long for most people. If you still can, please try. I soiled, and sullied myself. Avoid sportswear. They are all so stoic, in the elevator. Go out of the Universe (now), give reality some structure. What would I decide, if they locked me in a prison cell, and forced me to come up with something? Full on entrapment, ah, what the hell? We used to have something to do. I hope you like it. A weeks worth of cigarettes in an old can. They don’t take down the signs until after the store’s have been closed/shut down/put out of business, for decades. We tried to figure out plurality, once. It makes absolutely no sense. Crack house furniture, all over the front yard, eviction notices on the windows, that weren’t blown out during the fire. The school will exist, but it’ll take awhile to set up. It was as oily as Gino, back in the day. Spirits are low. Yes, hospitalization would be best. My thought mechanism, has broken down. Animals sense death, it goes beyond smell. I drifted nowhere (this is pleasant). Tie your arms, to your legs! Ammonia, is inside me. Document the disappearances of all of them. I have lived your life! We think about vaginas (this is why we all fail). Know the violent aspects of it. Conduct yourselves, accordingly. The crackers were moldy. This’ll be the start. Death is not boring. Shock, at the sock box! Well, displacement made me think twice about what I said. See, it was a crime. Get active (take the highway). I meant to say something. We arranged it all, the machines are inside us. The luggage is back in my room. There are stories all over the place. Enough with the book, Eleanor Roosevelt imitations, plans for the “real city of the future.” All I did was play with my tool. This guy came in and took over. Everyone knows where they’re going. Just like a layer of chalk descended from the sky. They’d better be more than mere, parts of your life. We ate the free food at the taco bar/restaurant. They responded. You had to wear gloves. Pretend not to remember, to amuse yourselves. Please, no more wet farts in clean pants. The shadow guards were wasted, at Spear flex, Inc. The fire exit signs were made of wood. I used to be full of angst, piss, vinegar, bile (black); but, no more. Your literature comes across like a carnival barker’s snake oil sales pitch. Why do you sell the books over the internet at a cut rate/wholesale price? What do you think it all means? How strange, how strange it is. Do I have any solutions to posit? You will make promises that you just can’t keep (kind of like marriage vows). I ache and I’m tired. All these broken phrases, I must make up my mind. Show me otherwise, I’m still listening. I can taste the emptiness in my mouth. They took all the magic out of driving around (gas prices). Some monkey is pulling the strings in this menagerie! Have a ham sandwich! If you do anything in a car, except drive it, they’ll throw you in jail. What’ll we do for an encore (it won’t get that far)? I guess I did sit around feeling sorry for myself, but see, those days are over. Just looking at them is more than enough stimulation. Fun? Fuck that shit!
Part the river, let us cross. People are bored stiff, by the entertainment, these days. I am all out of enthusiasm, I get drunk, alone. Not now, not this way, no, not again, please don’t do this to me. Give me a trench coat, earmuffs, glasses, and bread on the side. God, grant me the integrity, to do what I cannot do. I guess you could say that I’m what you’d call, fucked up in the head. Blake ate the whole case. When I threw myself onto the ground, and thrashed, people thought that I was kidding. Sales, sheep, slaughter, vanity; on our pillows, life seems one way, out there, yet another. Oh, those count, believe me. It’s stuck inside of our heads. There were maggot’s in the candy, discovered too late. Commit sections of your resignation letter, to memory. A whole poem was composed, now, it’s forgotten. The kid beat on the pop machine, mercilessly. The billionaire went crazy with his antics (concerning the revolving doors). Remember Five Forks, Arkansas. The only difference between then and now, is that now, there’s a Bible in the room. Understand the underhanded methods, go from potential, to actual; smash them together. Feel what it’s like, to feel/fail. Corruption leads to temperance, performance anxiety. It’s all original, baby cakes. Provide a sense of is-ness, laugh at the assemblage. There is no now, catch it if you can. There aren’t any candy bars, not any more. We’ve been through the hurting. It looked like a seething cauldron of pus (her vagina). Someone yelled, “fuck.” He used to be gay, now he’s straight. This is it, this is always, it. Removed my eyelids, just in an effort to see better. Keep your kisses on your arm, ask to go to the bathroom. The newscasts are all slanted, one way or the other. Where are these technical illustrations? Is there any way, any solution, anything at all? She said it was “the mark of Cain.” We just have to concentrate, and pretend we don’t see the cigarette machine. Our tears are green, what is the color of the pencil? The éclairs were dropped, deliberately. Ask the guy at the gas station. I can’t totally understand my lack of understanding. The spirit is lost, the venue is gone, there is a game on. The tool crib used to contain everything we needed. We are scared, because we fear. This is this. Act cute, to win the game. Process your headless exaltations (so, it’s all stupid?). Inch by inch, it is all made clear. My half off special girlfriend, dumped me (pants were removed). Just bury me in the backyard, with the others. No more workies, fears, and so on… It’ll all just melt away. The zone, is the only place, that anything, will ever happen. Laminate the sponge, throw the racket. We must forge new molds, at once. I dried off with a moldy towel. The barbeque pits in the park, look like crows. Someone put out their cigarettes in the ketchup. Where is the rookery? What is happening here, is just indecent. Perspire, like a pig (pig’s don’t perspire, you asshole). My head hurts, my glands are swollen. The elbow on the couch, wigged me out. I’ve only been writing this for nine years (twelve). My toy accordion, is missing? Let’s climb off the thing, and then, jump down. Don’t baffle and bewilder us, with pointlessness. I’m “born again.” He said he’d be my woman? It’s all still down in the damn basement. For shits and grins, we invented a new, bizarre, eight track, nightmare reel. I’m a total, and absolute freak. There is more than once kind of ketchup, damn you. Maybe “the never,” has knocked on my door, so drunk, so drunk and delirious. We fucked in a mini, red teepee. The smell of cabbage, permeates the atmosphere. We came up from the cabins, a little too eager. Go ahead, hate. Everything is a latrine, in Gary, Indiana (no offense to the town, I’m talking about everything!). Nothing is lost, because nothing lasts. As our skin becomes yellow, we’ll think of all the things we should’ve done, etc. Too many things, are impossible. That picture was so damn sexy, that I want to cut it out of the magazine. Nobody cares, and I don’t really think that they should. We want life, and can’t find it, we’re drunk and confused, help us. We paint ourselves into inescapable corners, we pave our enemies roads for them, the light is yellow, this is so fucking stupid. They vandalized the entire neighborhood, with their beautiful chalk drawings. I am covered with dirt, clothing is optional. I’ve thrown the ball around the rubber padded room (we’ve already been through all of that). I have a curvature, sperm and egg connect. Stop believing, no more fairy tales, multiply this, give up. Spit it underneath the desk, weave it all into it, somehow (we can’t grasp the whole). The paint is peeling, the rent is being raised. What do you think about nothing? Be just this side of an ice sculpture. Shove it in, all the way. Aren’t we all, weirdo’s? I’m disabled, impotent, imbecilic, the word was there, a minute ago. Yo, hold up, where you stay at? Strike the cymbals, lobbies and landings, stairs, stains! Soybean, 1966?! Make a spectacle of yourself at the trading post, year after year. Some kind of slime, just came out of my mouth. Scratch your swollen appendages, pick your scabs, and sores. This is a real, working mill, don’t touch any of the machinery. This book is unlike any other, ever (this fact will work against me). Do you have any idea of what I’m going through, right now? I just felt it! I happen to love my ceiling. I secretly believe that it’s eleven o’clock. Every single day, the same six pointless things.
