At this point, I’ll settle, for nothing less, than a miracle. This warrant, is not valid, Your Honor. Did something, creepy, happen, at the prom? We only, thought, we needed, them. Our lives, are not our own, unfortunately. We drown, in the songs they play. When in doubt, of your creative activity, whatever it is, increase your output. These days, unlike, in the past, hard work, and all that, shit, does not lead, to any, foreseeable, reward. They won’t let me work, in their precious, pleasure gardens, afraid, that I’ll release the secret, that no one there, is, working. It is almost time, to get going, and to stay there, for a long time, only, much later, returning, to this, at which, point, I won’t want to, do it, but, will know, that I need to, and, will end up, doing (writing), it. Jail, is not any kind of place, to go. Leave your slim ham, coyote, to the dogs, go out, with a bang, pass the mustard gas. Was it a dream, or, did I really, throw that moldy, and rotten, thing, out of my trunk? So many things, in this, repeat themselves, so often, that, yes, it is a problem. We would really dig, some startling, developments, in whatever, case, is going to enrapture, the news reports, for the next decades, oh, fill us, in, inform us, inform us. Try to prove it, see what, transpires. Let the ethics book, just, sit there, for awhile. All that is necessary, is to start, completely, over, but, no one, will let us, we are less threatening, to the general security, if we stay, exactly, who, and what, and where, we are. I see a man-o-ray, in the Moon, if that, qualifies. Express, what you’ve been repressing, for months, if not, years. Instead of, let us, pray, how about, let us, try. At the tone, the cards, will read, get your ass on the road. It may sound as if, we’re screaming, underwater, it doesn’t matter, how it, sounds, the fact is, we’ve been pushed, so…we need…this is some kind of cockfight, of the soul. The muse, comes, and goes, but, the furies, remain. There is a problem, with my, shoes, last year’s, stuff, is stacked up, on the shelves, but, I can’t tell, what types, or, kinds, of products, they are. Hold it steady, suck it in, wonder, what’s going on, in the other room, want, long, wish, wake the fuck, up! The bills, keep piling up, and, I don’t think, it’s going to stop, in fact, I’m sure, of it. I miss you, now, I missed you, while you, were right in front, of me. Can I fiddle with you, just, one more, time? Your creases, and crevices, were so, clean, the lust, was never, properly, communicated, of course, nothing, was, we need to try to remember, what we already, know. You’re so, Russian, I need you, just, let me smell your underpants. Nothing, is fast, and easy, simple, and trouble free. Well, the vitality, and passion, aren’t really, there, but, we fancy, that we make up for it, with laziness, and avoidance. As for, ecstasy, well, no, not many of us, have it, but, we, can, stare out of a window, for hours. Notes, to an inanimate man: get to a tanning booth. Logical people, are too measured, and sing-song, careful. They want a new kind, of sunshine. Ye, who keepeth, spinning on logs, if ye, stop, ye, will, fall. We’ll never get it, quite the way, we want it, will, we? It goes by, so, damn, fast (life, itself). It is hard to believe, that we can allow ourselves, to get as deluded, as we do. The lift, will take you, down. Those labels, in which, I do not believe, should pertain, to me, will be ignored, if applied to my luggage, or, any, of my belongings. Your reputation, is earned, by repetition, so, don’t dance, in the same nightclubs, twice, don’t eat, at the same restaurant, don’t do, anything that you end up, doing, twice. Feet, are the smell, of sex, it took me, years, to discover, this, fact (we’re not impressed?). My mumblings, are all, out of tune. Show, that you’re doomed. All day, every day, absolutely, nothing. We’re all, indescribable. That’s the song, that Freida, always used to, whistle.
I was more than a geek, then, and, things, have gone downhill, ever since. I don’t have any thoughts, worth repeating, even though, I do it, all the time. My death, will attract, no notice. Don’t push me, away from you, not when I’m, this way. Five days, with the tan hand, the silent fish, is sunk. The plans, that were made, for the fight, proved to be, too elaborately, staged, to be pulled off, realistically. Someone, trained, by me, to work, with me, would wind up, performing, dead seriously, in the comedy club. Character, is a false artifice, we build up, so, contrived. We never have the world, by the balls, though, we can scratch them, from time, to time. Mary Ann, how long were you planning on staying, at the office? A psychopath, is usually, going to, “have problems, with counseling,” and, not like their jobs. Now that the reinstatement fee, has been paid, do you think the authorities, will leave me, alone? Books, about money, cost money, to buy, and, quite rarely, lead to the reader, stumbling on, to some unforeseen, cash, mysteriously, appearing, in their bank accounts. No more peekaboo, albino, tittie, games, for me, thank you. The clean people, have their own problems, that they, can’t scrub off, we, have ours. Doing crazy things, with tube steak, won’t give you the kind of contentment, you long, for. No matter where, I, end up, working, or, how much money, I make, there, I will, never, ever, give a fuck, about the job, if, well, nevermind, the exceptions, to the rule. This is the kind of day, where people, end up, spending, too much time, in the bathroom. I’m embarrassed, to be myself, yeah, but, this, is neither, the time, or, the place, to go into, that. No one, is too easily, shocked, surprised, or, impressed, anymore. It takes about six years, to un-fuck, yourself, from however, you wound up, getting fucked, so, don’t fuck up, or, get fucked, too frequently. My goodness, how the tile grout, made fools, of us all! Get the ability, of staying alive, sorted out. Use, only as directed. There is no such thing as god. Crumple up the fits, and starts. Indeed, we purchased, the entire, penninsula. I attempted, to fend off, the invasion. Throw it all down, on paper, it doesn’t matter, what, nothing matters, at all. There will be no graduate school, for me. There is very little, to do, worth doing, please, choose, carefully. Ideas about nothing, which are not, surreal, people, don’t, usually, respond, to it. Hit your function key, hope, that, by doing so, that you’ll be given, one. Don’t ever expect, anyone, to give you, anything, above, all, trust, no one. Tears, out of both eyes, means, something, some, movie of the week, sponsored by a gift card, company. How do you, know, for sure, it’s a, gnome? They won’t freeze you, when you, go. There were pits, and tunnels, shit, like that. In the end, why, is it, that other people’s, opinions, seem better informed, than our, own? The whole thing, is my excuse, to keep from, living. People can’t handle, what they, can’t handle, some, turn to a psychotropic medication, to offset, these effects. We are way, past, what should be, the ending, now. His girlfriend, was there, that night…no, I have no idea, what that, has to do, with anything else, here. It was just another day, in October, not a lot, happened. Yeah, most of us, are luckier, than we think, we are, I just don’t want to die, not having lived, as I have, thus far. Don’t get your alcoholism, and insanity, mixed up, please. Nothing is worth, twenty seven dollars! I faked my way, through thirty years. No more swear words, are allowed. We know, all, of the mistakes, that we’ve, made.
