Why do we do the things we do? If I don’t get rich off of this, there is going to be trouble. Then, it is all done [(us, too), sometimes before that]. Most of us amuse, and entertain, ourselves. A lot of talking has to take place, before the marriage. Lives don’t match up to ideals (our ideals). It doesn’t mean anything, anymore. I don’t quite remember giving each other haircuts, just staying over there too long. Startled by the cat’s, meow. The whole shit smear, needs to be wiped (the political statement). The hummingbird is imitating a pigeon. The Hamilton stuff is old, too. The worms in the beans, is what caused them to jump. Lyin’, cheatin’, stealin’, killin’? She had me under a spell, called it flirting. They were only yellow beads. It’s take ten out, add twenty in, apparently. It won’t come back to me. We got as close as we could, to the old mental hospital grounds. Easy in there. Go with AM radios, but do without mornings (try to). Breaking up with her, was worse than getting killed. Nobody is freaking out enough, or even, at all. Once again, at the perfect time, we didn’t have our cameras with us. It’s hard to really accept, that you’re not good enough, for real. Other things, which we discussed. The highlights of our lives, are like a sixty second reel, of things we didn’t count on. The young stay away from the middle aged, instinctively. Man, I’m sweating, again. Look for what isn’t, here. Zen is overused (?). There is no end, in other words, I really fucked up! There is no “funny” in this canoe, tonight! I guess I thought that this would end up being “cool.” It didn’t. We we’re made for each other, and I missed it. Leave the children out of this! Buddy, you better lose your illusions, or else. Call it ambition, and forget it. I was trusted by the right people, but that was a long time ago. I got most of them (not so fast). How in the hell did I allow this to get so screwed up? Go on out there, and find the precious mulberry endings, of all of our days. He asked me if I had any outstanding warrants. Not in the mood? Beware the screams from the dead of night (real screams). Saturday traffic is heading towards the docks. Not to that degree or extent, but something went very wrong? There is a lot of skin, printed on paper, to get excited about. Man, you’ve been transcribing all day. According to the evidence, we’re getting too many kicks. We’re all too slow. Take out at once, that which must be removed! None of these pencils have erasers. As for the crutch to speed along my ruin… You’ve got to claw deep into there, corrupt it’s essence. There probably isn’t enough room to add that. What are we trying to do? Go to where the girls are all taller than you. I said it once, I’ll say it again, I will never stop smoking (check my obituary). Find the secret streets, off of the main one’s. It’ll be called the Aret¡ School, and they will try to stop it. Shit to this, that, and the other. I like a little peace and quiet, when I’m trying to defecate (damn you!). You’ll all figure it out, in your own good time, don’t pay any attention to me. The rich aren’t any prettier than the poor, they just think they are. With her, it was always like sleeping with an eight year old (um, uh…). See, I lack the courage of my convictions, just like you. Cut it up into four quadrents, but there is only one book here (warning). Sex with models, as if we were crazy (hand models). The acres have gone brown, ancient history, disrupts the whole affair. We need more mad houses, for those that hear the zen caused, schizophrenia bound, voices (just like L.S.D.). Writing is too slow, and takes away from living. I snapped, like the horny loser in the bowling alley. As a species, we spend too much time, celebrating. West Bend has changed. An overactive thyroid was the cause of it all. There better not be a fire over them. They will not let you know. Your agent can’t wipe your ass for you, just describe the curves, and bends. Yet another tragedy, will strike. You’d better be willing to do more than tolerate, ambiguity! Sound is uttered, fly into a rage, if need be. Get loose of the sins, the sexy feelings. It was not that difficult, digging the shit out of the ice. We all drop the ball, in our own good time. The network gave us all a chance to experience shame. They will sue you, with only the slightest provocation on your part. Where is the missing plum? They spend most of their time, wishing. You don’t know how to talk. So it isn’t worth shit, so what? Are any of us ready, for the truly terrible things, to come? They got to me, they’ll get to you, too. The kids charge into college, and are carried out. Most of us, will never have, “a life.” Grunt when you sit down. This clarity, couldn’t actually, be that. Shatter the worn out harmonica. The curtain is stuck. The underlying reality of what’s going on here, is being manipulated by a secret/sick society, that you don’t want to know about. End this nightmare, the agony. Are you looking forward to the last chapter, too? This is the terrifying bang, that I knew was coming. Will that be my premiere, with the jolly jet stream, all over the room? Here, coal to you, sticks and coal. Most of us feel that we’re more interesting than we are. You have deprived me of full consciousness. We must act, in spite of our exhaustion. It’s wicked, to toil like this for no reason/reward. Yoke yourselves up to the contraption! My colonostomy was a success. You are so, so swollen. Whine a way, in vain. Venture out on the town, wearing slacks.
Night came, and with it, creeps. Waste us? We want, don’t get. She had heart shaped, hair. Paint! The corrugated boxes, are there. The entire city, is abandoned. There is no next time. The bastards have control of us, to say the least, I feel the fear. Somebody else runs the store, people are in conflict, trouble, dire straits. All of the governor’s, crowded into the picture. Avoid all contact with them. You’re so sharp, sweetpea. The subtext is what blows my head off. I feel a little bit worse than miserable, the brain starts to go soft, and I can’t even get up to answer the door. The goal was to live, but we made a mistake. Leave the lord out of this, merge with Canada and Mexico. The “honey comb,” is a pussy. Herb ran the camera, his eyes looked blank. Some kind of mountain range, jets out in front of us. Some of us have never been loved, because we don’t want to be. The birdfeeder wasn’t designed for woodpeckers. The band aid, fell off (it takes a lot of quitting, to quit, once and for all). We’ve lost track of what was wisdom. Admire the dead, go into yet another zero tolerance back room. Use your skull, beg the embarrassed, get dirty, drunk, fat, stupid. Sink down the left side, blow your flute, keep your mouth shot. Rubber woman, did things with her arms. The vibe, was strong, our resolve, weak. Swing, like a microphone, stand in the room, smiling, and looking. Flake it off the end of it. Direct your attention to the snackbar. It’s just the smell of yeast. This is as bad as the rest of the shit, maybe worse. What we do to escape life, makes life worse. There is really no choice involved, is there? Dreaming of an audience, again? We underwent it, to get it, we’re in the store, it was not us. Accept nothing, shove the damn cogito. What we must do, is attempt! People grew tired of our antics, the critique was very informative. Slip into a new mode, too much depression, save me, papoose! Then, she began punching, and hitting. Stay fresh, go down a little lower, suffer a little more, you can feel it happening. Inside, there is nothing there, so much has happened, which amounts to zero. It may very well be time to stop recovering. We are the people who thought they were going to become famous. At the meeting on Tuesday, I may show my anger. Time for lodging, no more desire. In the galleria, she was so sexy. Clean out the barn (symbolically speaking). Someone chimed in, it is difficult to control, it is, indeed, self abuse. My little fairy stories, are not going to change anybody’s life. It’s like the hinges on the old door. This ceramic bowl is fit for tossing, at random. The cream cheese people, pushed me away, so, ultimately, juvenile. The dark molasses of the day, segues neatly. What we are trying to accomplish here, is some kind of greatest hits package. Although it may not seem like it, I have an awful lot to do. Rabbit parts were scattered all over the back porch. Eventually, there is no time to do the things you want to do. That’s not our sewage in the street, is it? Moan away, go out and get drunk, it’s like the gymnastics epidemic (really far out). It all got so oral/anal. He said he just couldn’t, “deal.” I’m still waiting (impossible). I am where I am, but I can’t quite seem to really believe it. I got old, and why did I do those things that I did? We’d better learn to live with it. I don’t care, anymore (at all). My inner lesbian, loved her, let this be a sampler, forgive me my sins. Our theories were in error. Call it what it is, foul and indecent. My face is revolving, revolting, I want to tell them that I’m sorry. It’s a pre-recorded slogan. We will never, figure it out.
