It’s just like it used to be. The book is in tatters, but it means something. How good did it feel, to do what you done? Sprawl out, inconsistently. That’s the whole deal. People continue to fuck, and piss. It’s constant mayhem. Meet a girl at the mall. Feel the fear, and run home to your mother. Bring it all down. Take her name out, at once. Piss there, in the vortex. It’s like cartoons! Slip more in here. It’s all been tried. Relieved? He still gets high (on skuzzy days). Grunt, until the table does your bidding. Lloyd, whats going on? Smash all of your restraints. Tested, the clock ticks so loudly. Bust out, or rust out. Misspell a few? A notebook full of somebody else’s masturbation ideas. Who is conditioning who? Melt into life, like cheese into a taco. Proclaim the mystery, you’ve got to jazz this up. All the best lines are gone, or missing. We want to look good, dead. I can’t see! Hooey for the stars, I rode my bike on the railroad tracks. See, it’s how well it fits in with everyone else. Twist it, or else. Was it stilts, or slits? Be like they are/were. Face your true, inner self. Do it the old fashioned way. I’m telling you, it’s a disaster. Nothing but naysayer’s, doom and gloom. You are the old dean. I’m not going to make it, Ellie. Insist on satisfaction, satiation, and so on. I said/admitted, that it was a…well, it’s sort of random. The rind, encompasses us. People still die in elevators. It’s like blubber. The doomed and damned, destroyed, like fodder. Oh, my gosh (what I’ve forgotten). What will happen here? It will be different (guaranteed). Wait’ll you read my next one. No, you don’t need to give it a day to “sink in.” Help me, darling. Go back into the closet. They checked my license. There used to be such wonderful surprises. Describe the dancing (later). You hurt my feelings. I was a mark, seen as stupid, an easy victim. Promiscuity (more!). It was a man, in women’s clothing. Yeah, something was definitely different. Don’t defile her memory, with this. It’s back to monopolies, again. This is why there are only fourteen new pages! He isn’t going to stop over here. Spurt what, where? We used to play on the roof. Oh, Imogene, I’m tired. Hold on, it gets even weirder. This is all that matters (sometimes). There are so many more important things to do, than live. The most religious people are in prison. Pray for me, seek the white buffalo. The view from the West Main bedroom window, was expansive. No more abuse! I mean, you just need to know what you’re doing. It’s all too pervy (too many sixteen year old girls). He tried too hard (who?). It’s the same empty promises, and pointless advice. What is this? There has got to be a way. What isn’t, in here? Yeah, what am I waiting for? Take that body (are you crazy?)! They are just ordinary, family noises. This book is a laxative, and a sleeping pill. The pipperoo girl, is in the asylum, now. Expect fish, you’ll get some. The ceiling will come down. Send away for a kite. It’s higher octaves, and speed limits, that we’re after now. Stay out of one another’s business, period. Remember the catechism of (?)! Oh, dear me. It is today, you are you. Same melody, different song. Sequins were banned! There is no page sixty-eight! Like a yell from the backyard… Get a clean copy up and running. We’re getting into the thick of it, now. The newer version, actually improved things. We will only get what we want, by doing it our own way. The doors were opening and closing. It’s all up hill, from here. The eraser will be gone in a matter of minutes. The whole deal is being offered. Static and energy, are required. Once again, with the eyelash in my eye. No second chances! Justice will find it’s way to you. The college spit him out, like a warm wad. How can it be? Toe gazing, simple functions. It’s about being sick. Life goes on, despite our opinions of it. Five dollars is no sooner forthcoming, than five cents. The man is stumbling through the park. These blanks aren’t filled. Put the tape there. I’m an ornery, old asshole, I’m not needed where I want to be. Take me back to the sand pits. Leave before the ambulance gets there. Feel the deep hurting. Move your finger, whatever, but actually do something. Too much cheddar, equals fat head. And if I die, before I wake, I’m sure a bloody mess, I’ll make. Drinking too much is a real bad sign, of something else. Flesh out your characters. Do it, with lesbians. Hindu’s know about the pancreas. They used subliminal messages, on me. It seemed as if I was in a room full of skulls (on West Cedar). She knows how plain, and boring, I am. Escape somehow, just get away. They are wine shop people, always one step away from you. Something is wrong with me. The water (the backwater). Three dismensional sexpots, working in department stores. Eyes will be opened, as legs are/were. Insinuate something about the rich. This book is controversial enough, leave that part about her, out. Anger is so pleasing, so sexual. My spelling went, that-a-way. One, two, seven… It’s all up to you, and you’ve known that for a long time. Everything has been figured out, nothing is going to change. My hair is infested with insect larvae. Mosh pit citations, torn up and thrown into the bonfire. Don’t you dare withhold my medication from me. The ghetto awaits me, patiently. Download now? Light beer, will get you just as fat. They were there. Looking at Redwoods, thinking about significance. We will suffer in silence, alone. All these secrets… It’s dedicated to… Critique yourselves. The ax was sharpened. It will remain the way that it is. Ah, I ain’t making any efforts (for it). Let us just, feel it. Images, with beautiful breasts, float through the very air, itself. Swimming through the bedroom, someone got annoyed. The beginning of the movie? The punks hid up on that hill. Everybody was (and is) scared of one another. Her ass was like a pear, so I ate it. Every town has a new part, and an old one. We sold womens shoes, size eleven and up, only. What is the word (?). Sleep in the car, close the fridge. Sunlight shoots us through the head. Don’t let me into your garage, ever. Be your loose teeth. It builds up to a subtle creschendo. Blame me, I probably had something to do with it. Stop “sleep walking,” now. The faithless will have their shovels, to dig all the graves for the good, righteous people. Let’s complete this, and go away. Weightless sex, and floating. It feels like being decimated.
The sounds were of people eating. I hate short stories. He asked for more pussy, as if it were ice cream. This will never sell. There were candle smells and fireworks, for a while. No security, ever. The good shit is lost and forgotten, as usual. I’ve got weird tastes. It was zebra mussel breakfasts, for years. Avoid the cascading frying pan. What made me think of them, now? It’s the perfect music for the mood. After all is said and done… Don’t make me be myself. Go with the purple hair. This is the dumb part. Cut to the chase, always. It isn’t all that interesting. It was a charade/masquerade, they used persuasion on us. Save it, this. Bathroom fear, goes away. Sometimes, the best thing to do, is nothing, but not very often. Remember to forget, when, and where, appropriate. A few stitches were thrown, not nearly enough. Rutabaga causes all kinds of trouble. It used to be the neighborhood grocery store. There is no method, now, behave! This is the way it is. The library is in an inverted “L” shape. Wisdom is what you receive, at your most foolish. Even the ceiling fan, wants to speak with me (but not one person). You’ve got to hold your pen differently, to survive in this age. Look at the arteries, running down her neck. The wind disrupts us, everything does. You thought too much, out by the shopping carts. Talk to the bottles, it sounds like racquetball. Bring it up a few notches, get monastic, to hell with this. Too much, has gone too wrong. They may try to “block” the publication of this book, like a punt, or some such bullshit, that they’d rather… We have got the fear. Feed the pets, flake the dandruff, off. To wake up with a sudden, terrified start, and be quite unable to scream. It’ll only come out in paperback, to save you some money, and give me less. There is nothing else that I can do, I, and everybody else, knows this. I’ll be lucky as hell, just to break even. I denied what I had done. We used to stand and stare at one another, like a couple of cows in a field. The very “voice inside my head,” would appear to want me dead. Start writing, despite all that. The only real reason that I write at all, is to deny my own death. Looking into a bowl of water, in some attic bedroom? The phone call, did not go well. It’s drugs and death, or what, pray tell? Big business killed that town, long before it left. The wording was off. Be like the troubled bunny, piss out of your ass. The ice in the rink, has been thawed out. They sing in a foreign language, to annoy us. The deadline looms, what works? We’re all being mishandled. Everybody’s bedtime, must be nine o’clock. They placed the pumpkins, just so. Get lubed up, for action. This seminar is for you, the powerless, the terrified. Ah, there’s nothing like pregnancy, to destroy a relationship. The image has been magnified. Fink on one another. Avoid external circumstances, do not have an ass, get linear, sit in the diner, all alone. The fall through the plate glass window was staged, dig? All the good stuff is torn down, to make room for “progress.” Do not do anything against the law, ever! They’ll grow up, eventually. Time goes by, too quickly (bye). Too much sitting around! Get the damn idea. (lay into it, heavy). People don’t want to know one another. A boom, or a bane? As we speak, it’s all canceling out (open a can of peaches). We had our daycare innuendo, thank you. Beware corrosive metals. We’re leashed, and guided. Some people, never recover. The former nature center? Do you know what is wrong with you? In a drunken stupor, I did what I did. They used you. The more you admit, the less is truly admitted. Stay away from the damn liquor store. Some of us, want to feel bad. Spare change rests under my feet (for now). I even worked in a porno shop, for a while. Let there be evidence. What is the point? Practice your scales! Things have gotten quite bad. Jane spelled out intellectual chaos. Don’t leave a note. Dissolve into a slow fade, like the rest of them. This is Edmund’s book, now. My cross is heavier than yours, is (lie). Our policy is a long standing one. Isn’t it all a lie? I read about her bouts with depression. Don’t try to hide it, anymore. I’m running out of ideas. My best isn’t good enough. Make up for lost time, before it’s too late. They brought that little fucker, over. It’s a cutthroat industry, sharpen your knives. The odds of any of us getting any help, are slim. Haven’t we given up enough? My writing is careless. K (for what?). It’s too pointless to be pointless, at this point. Surrealism/existentialism, philosophy/psychology. We wanted to swim, but never did. They kept them up in a cage. Nobody wants to slip down the steep embankment. You’ll wind up stranded in the woods, like the rest of us. Resign from everything. Due to the deathbed, I sought help. A maelstrom of discursive thoughts, assaulted. He photographed his bare ass on the copy machine. Deal with your issues, immediately. Another civil emergency order given; ce’st la vie. Forsake these confounded fears. We all think we’re something we’re not. The chocolate animals are covered with tinfoil. They gave me the standard Hollywood diagnosis, meaning, of course, no. Consume dirt, real, antiquated dirt. These are issues. Try to tune out the inteference. Steal my ideas. Being wasted never stopped them from driving. My fears, are not real. It still isn’t long enough. My hopes and dreams, have long since, just, gone away. She had me actually fill out a portion. Writing is like the pigeon’s, pecking at their disks. No more buffet special. Keep your hands out of my pants, self. Strive for a more good and saintly form, of Satanism. The human condition has been described and disseminated, dissected, and floated in. The goofball kids don’t know what to do, or how to spell it. The easy part is getting there, the tough part, is making it through.
So many years of spatulas and game shows. Mirror that one child’s will to live. I hear you making love up there. Gingerly, move. The shit hole is clean. Believe they were only misunderstandings? All of what we were, has been forgotten (2089). Into the mausoleum, alone. A surprise awaits. Off to the auto parts store. Thou cannot plagarize anything, at all. Customers are cruelty. Song lyrics are the only poetry around, anymore. I’m sick of the damn drug talks, on the porch. It was as if I confounded the Soothsayer’s predictions. Only the tall girls, got me into trouble. Myra did it do him, proper. He just turned seventy five, only, he’s dead. It’s not ending. Goodnight, to the one who was never known. Arrangements were made. It’ll all go on, like insects do. Now, the caresses. Cocaine is no solution, fool. Buddha is a dead body. Many, mulled around. Do you have the tension? Talk to me, dead. The low notes infuse us with star powder. My real life occurs in a parallel universe. Yes, I blame you (no, I don’t). Well, I thought I was smart, but knew that I wasn’t. Every year, my mind gets more blank. Strung out on drugs, and unsure of our motivations. When I get upset, I drink. What are your sources? Too much sitting around. The inferno (vortex) is sucking me into it. Where were you, when Adlai died? The bolts are/were, screwed on tight (we thought). Keep searching, but never expect to find anything. Call it what it is, abandonment. Encounter the air, re-initiate dialoge, shove this “career.” I’m on some perpetual acid trip. It’s about nihilism and madness, not much else (life). We must become more old fashioned. You’re a fuckin’ fink! She was in the donut shop, I got the shivers. Bang on some drums. There are no rewards (who are we?). Why do we do what we do? Oh, I have a lot to prove, like that the last six years, weren’t all in vain. Don’t count on peace of mind, or anything, really. Too much talk? Five million attempts, fifty big returns. No one even got silly. They have too much faith in me. It’s not good, it’s brilliant, stellar, fabulous (?). We wanted acceptance. Poems, 1990-2000 (the Last Ditch Effort). No sound, forever. We’ve long since repented, you people just don’t know the sadness of failure (this is absolutely untrue). Shut up then, and look/listen, at/to, the goddamn sky. Now, all of it’s gone to shit, in a bike basket. They neglected to tell me that writing would turn me into a transvestite/faggot (it’s what it takes?). And I knew I’d committed an error. She turns me on so much, I couldn’t control myself. The song is too long (about the abandoned store). A playboy hitting bottom, with a glint in his eye. Are you ready for my brand of starch, yet? I still have the receipt from when we got his nails cut. Are you sure that you double checked everything? My foot keeps falling asleep, then waking up, by pin pricks. Sex is something that happens to people who live elsewhere. This is harm, that you are doing to me. Stay out of the theater. Not a pretty picture would I make, poor marks for appearance. Take the endless bullshit, on the chin. They can all read this book, just by looking at my face. Mean, may be good, in this day and age. This is like the way things used to be. There is nowhere to go, nothing to do. Decide against the super swirl. She had beautiful nails. Artists don’t get no nothin’. It’s all question marks and anguish, now. No, that is not what I am asking for. I am rather proud of this, all in all. You are asking for trouble, aren’t you? Remove, or add? Well, it’ll connect back up with the other one. The math isn’t working out in my favor. Eight long years have passed me by, quickly. If anyone deserves it, it’s me (said/written, without hubris). The binding is becoming undone. Man, I said “fuck it all,” fifteen years ago, and look what that got me (not much). We’re all phonies, not just them. The most wild, hair up the ass ideas, are the one’s that need to be acted on, first. This bag is not a toy. This is the brass ring (out of reach). Squiggly lines, indicated something. More, by all means, more, like the old man in the car. Lies were told. Smear me, again, into that collage that you made. They were ice carvings. Write about slam dancing (the only “advice,” in this entire book). People get arrested for doing the things we do. Why add that (?) to the rest of what is going to go down? The stories come from shit like this (source material), that somebody has to write. Ms. Jannson, I presume? There was that element, and the other. I just got out of jail (again). He used to try to live, but it just never worked out that way. It must be old paper. Grip fantasies, with no particular origin (you ain’t gonna’ get no Presbyterian. Equivalence, the two of us, drop kicked. Moving sidewalks, with our lips all over the books, bite marks, so on. You wouldn’t believe me, if I told you. No fiscal responsibility. Gonna’ take that sweater off you. They are not big, but they hold me up, provide balance. At the end of the world, I became a shoe collector. Get up, get up right now, or else. We’ve got to decide. Gemini has tits, now (and I can’t believe it)! So many shattered dreams. He likes to pretend that his own legs, are a woman’s, rub and stroke them. Lurch into the true grit, once and for all! Call it a damn interlude, if it makes you feel any better. I never got the warning letter. Why can’t I wake up, or even, sit up? That is truly how close it is. That’s most of it, and that is not enough! If I could move, I could finish. Baby, I’m gonna’ be your favorite fairy! A little beyond the hilt, is where we’re going. It was a false wink. I’m not only crazy, I’m insane (two for the price of one). Nothingness feels like a cold shower, after being awake, three days. We are what we are, and not much more. Slotcar (fancy); wake the (rum) delirious.
