We had high hopes, long ago. Those who will do anything, wind up doing, well, nothing. Every single one of us will fail. Let that be a lesson to you (one you’ll never forget). Blame it on somebody else. Crushed jewels, worthless now. She wasn’t quite at the so and so. I’m so damn white, that I bowl. Time to awaken! Something fell out of the tree, perhaps the moon. They want, and will take, what you have. We know what is, and what isn’t. Electricity is very rarely, surprising. No abuse, not today (someone damaged the television). I squeeled like a cornered monkey, during the brawl. Ask yourselves how you got through it, before. Well, I did pull some Lazarus act, but that was a long time ago. I’m gonna’ cum on your face (no handkerchief). I scratched it out of my head. Kill an asshole, rush up to it, smash and hit at the supermarket, tour the abandoned homes. They do shit in the park (late at night). Wink at the van, seclude the symphony, come out from behind the curtain, with your hands up, fall through. I constructed a helmet, the bells rang all throughout the campus, the statues got scared, somebody spoke to me. Send some gifts, an award for the sum of all your ambition. You’re gonna’ get into some trouble. They say that my life will never happen. I’m not “losing it,” dead reader. Spit in the wind, yell in the theater, hang out at the bus depot, get called names. All the boring people congregated, saw the fly in the ointment, the cherries get picked, the cars get washed, and the cans get recycled. Do the suave bend, over. I don’t agree with myself, it isn’t really funny. Do not let the light deceive you. Cross off all of your (we took it all for granted) conversion experiences. The order and regularity that we perceive, is for, and in, most all senses and purposes, a myth, or series of myths, lies, false fronts and appearances. Our tears fell, in vain. The human brain doesn’t always work correctly, at our peril. With yoga-like calm, we endure. Crash the ramp, smash the lamp, do other things. The abnormal, becomes normal (now, the philosopher). It’s in my hair (alive), it is as if it were pulsating. I suppose you could consider this to be an outline. The weather will change, after it rains on your parade. Write another forward. Change your tune, buy from the Mennonite’s, babble incoherently, be objective with yourself. I can’t go through this, again (must make it work). Collapse, like an old box. The cat batted the door all the way open, watched it swing on it’s hinges. Concede defeat. It must be some crazy, “Midwest curse.” So much does, and will, get lost in translation. To be splattered all over the pavement, is all being, is. The car is going off, in unusual directions. That act might yet take place. Sometimes, a person’s radar breaks, or malfunctions, in some way. This doesn’t fit in with the other’s on the list (what list?). Are these the missing pages? The catastrophe, again. A fat poem, for a skinny loser. Go for deep penetration. We followed the north star, to our peril. It’s down to cheater pamphlets and used magazines, now. We act before (you need a black bedspread) a blue screen. We won’t make it that far ($$). There is nothing there, at all, really (the internet). Flake off, just like the rest of them. Alienation is what clouds your mind, like cheap drugs (we’re also, very aware of the side effects). That flit, wrestles? Stand in line. Your pants are missing. We dig for nothing. Run out to the barn and check on the horses. Enjoy the chanre sore we call, life (to the fullest), or, endure it. I want to squeeze you, every which way, but loose (squirt my manhood on your tits). Go ahead, hate them. Where we’re not welcome, we shouldn’t go. The denial hurts, what we want, won’t happen. I promised myself that I wouldn’t become what I did. Who are these people that are infecting our landscape? Her games were sexual, in nature. In spite of our knowledge, we know nothing. When in doubt, don’t. Inevitibility (the new gestalt). Try to stay alive, baby. This must be the sickness that has been coming on. Stranger people than I, have done this. Today, swimming pools, tomorrow, jail. Monks in the waxworks! Adultery feels so good. Bodies will continue to be found. What I need, most of all, is a personality. You will be yourself. Read it in the original French. The onion seemed to glow, like an orb. We’re all better off, alone. The beauty of this world, is in the shadow of the ugliness (but, it’s there). Own a piece of ass? Car stub #180-213. A mild shock to the system, nothing more. Get all up and in there, with the oil, nearby. Jesus was her best imaginary friend. Things are strange/strained. We’re all phonies, and we know it. Our memories get faulty, which we must guard against. Overnight, it shit in a hole. No more “things in quotes.” Running into the back of the truck, will put an end to all of this. The detour was a trick. Inexplicable as it is, who cares? A piss and a smile, she said. I can’t get organized. A little event just occurred. Blow the horn! Something has given me horrible gas (psst, don’t tell). Take a walk out to the barbeque pit, with assistance. The all-out rage, is surfacing, again. I’m getting the chills, the “creepy kind.” Wear your best shoes. They know what I don’t. Skim through it, it’s ridiculous. Who we are, doesn’t fucking matter. This is a bottom half glass, stare. Why did you fall down the stairs? The mirror experiments, caused permanent damage.
I’m all crooked, brains are slow to recover. Sometimes, I hear many things, simultaneously. Please, let this be a start on the next one. Leave the blank side of the postcard, out of this. Convert a pagan, uh, a pigeon. All of my attempts at humor, fail. The irony of my fall was, I guess, that I saw it coming. It’s like a car crash (the soundtrack). I was a little bit insane, back then. Use a dark pen. Such subtle hues, discolor our dispositions. This is a slow pull around the block on the shame wagon. So, she went a runnin’, and I went a chasin’. Too many buses, with squeeling brakes. My hair is missing. Make yourselves feel, rock out, cleverly. Like flowers, shall we wilt? Flat out fuckin’, in the “cooling tent.” There is no plan B, after this, I’m totally out of options. The penis will go limp, for what goes up, must come down. We must save Ralph (he’s in the kitchen). Fabulous and fantastic, typical and commonplace. Feel the aura of it, we’re on the dock, we complain, you used to be us. Oh, that’s her, that’s her. Let your life collapse, over next to mine. He’s probably still pounding on that damn chair. At that point, you lost all control. No more hot fudge sundaes, for us. Where is that gorgeous little sister of yours, with the tits? We don’t get what we want. The sandcastles have all been washed away. Our “instruments,” are ruined. Turn on the spit spigot, you bled into my sink (hymenal blood). Sopped, licked, sucked, stroked? In the fields, at attention. In and around the root cellar, popping cherries for a living. All of it, is shit. Don’t stall now, chubby. My religion is/involves, raunchy pornography. When will you learn to be careful? You teased me, you harmed me, the faggy flittiness, may be wearing thin, but you used and abused me. Remember waxy’s airport band. I’m falling to pieces (it’s just as well). We don’t care that we need new wiper blades, at all. Brittle mussel’s, awash. The past is the present. What is your real name? Stress, and alcohol. There was another life, that we wanted to lead. Did I mention that I wanted to be her? Go on out there, and dig up the buried bones, hang ‘em up on a nail, like driftwood. I can’t get over this depression. Sound a horn, some kind of alarm! He is totally wasted (yet, trying not to appear being, so). Dinner with the Dictaphone, yet again. What a name for a band. The man in the moon is special to me, smiling down. I squeezed her buttocks, she didn’t like that. Even if you’re not human, you can breathe. They tell each other secrets. News will reach you (that you don’t want to know). The scattered have already split off from the main drag. She was darling, she was prancing. All the needle marks, should’ve given him a hint. Stroke you down, so, so even. The plan egged me. Lost, in an endless series of subdivisions. The other exit, was open. The territory has been marked fully, with my saliva, I want to mount you. You could hear the typhoon over the telephone lines. Death is the end of dying, and then some. Soon, it will collapse, and we can help rebuild. We are trying to do, to be. It starts out subtle, and gets worse. We have no real reasons to live. There is no magic, there (oops). No long range plan, or any sort of plan at all, has been made. Rumors were spread, to the point where we couldn’t show our faces. They used to make me write about my new puppy, and shit. We all have a few good times. The bus used to stop directly in front of the prison. You’ve got to do this right. Six months later, I was gone. When you want black pants or red beads, there aren’t any. They want to keep us loathing, looking, and waiting. Published by thirty (or else). You’re all just nuts. It takes too long, to walk. New optical styles, every year. Here, even the bowling alleys, are new and improved. Tell me what it smelled like! The next time, you will be ready. What was I thinking (predicament)? What I don’t want to admit, is that I’m incredibly lazy/happy. Despair is in the genes, however. I can’t stand all these girls, with painted on pants! Every thought isn’t worth writing down. The professor asked me how far along I was, as if I were pregnant, which I guess, in a way, I am. It’s important to me (and very little, is). Spread out the dischord and dissonance, so that everybody gets their fair share. This is the kind of thing that can happen to you, if you’re shy in high school. We don’t really know what we’re doing. They were on the country club circuit, even then. I think I’m getting sick, now, in a final kind of way. There are a lot of bottlecaps scattered around here. Are you absolutely certain? Watch what you say, here. The phonelines are down (I love you, baby). I meant to write about the cuffs of my pants. There have been a lot of kids, driving over lawns, as of late. It might be time to move on, now. Isn’t that great (I’m going to jail, despite my “entrapment defense”)? Oh, that’s just not right! There she blows, all over my only suit. Ecstacy in the passenger seat, I guess. That was moody (try it with a capital M). We can endure (isn’t that what we’ve been doing all along, anyhow?)! The dream was of me, doing a striptease for my middle school teachers, with that body. Fix what needs fixing, Frank (even if it takes you the rest of your life). I rub against the Heron, all the time (accidentally). Well, nothing will change, we can take some solace in that, I guess. You’re free, but you’d better know what the fuck that means, beyond responsibility. Don’t let the dead turn you on, too much. The things that are supposed to make us drool, don’t, eventually. We end up finding out what we really are. I’d rather it if things were kept dull. We all get to stare up at the sky, until it gets wind of it. What is it, first this, and then, the other? Boring out holes, all that is, inconclusive.
