Should we just, put that old stuff, in here? Soon, I will prove to you, that I’m, not, crazy. There is nothing wrong, or, particularly, uncomfortable, in being alone. I spend too much time, urinating. Nobody cares, about your slinky, and inconsequential, ideas, about stone masonry. None, of nothing, is anything, unless, you’re, doing it. Exhibit A, showed a giant donut, exhibit B, showed an obese man. The rolls of papyrus, are not indicating, that there is anything left, to scam, out of, there, and put into, here. We must stop acting as if, we were all famous, special, super-duper, etc. My mouth, won’t let the words, pass by, it, that it, needs to. The whole, “self-expression,” thing, is forgotten. Keep the constants, in mind, we’re going to really, let go, now. Let me in, you, where did that, come from? Where is the thrill, and what is the purpose, of calling people, and talking, to them? Outstanding obligations, to such, and such, a place, keep, happening. Well, the crazy dancing, thing, doesn’t occur, anymore, in, or, out of, the house. This whole, creepy compendium, of contemplating, alternate realities, is a little too, clever, a little too, fancy. Navigate around, a little bit. Steam some gas, into all of it. Intervene, intervene, at the blues club, the market. It’ll take everything you’ve got, probably, more. Well, I can’t, fail, but, don’t take that, the wrong way, there are, at least, two ways, to interpret that, statement. Get me out of this perpetual, slag. We’re going to do the thing, with the transparencies. Tired of masturbation, suicidal thoughts, the cards, I hold, or, the ones that get lost, in the shuffle, contemplation, mankind, my head, the dealings, double-dealings, what we’re dealt, what we hold. Maybe, I should cool it, for awhile, in regards to quitting jobs, without having another one, lined up, to replace it, to say the least. Work, money, money (we’re ex-people), work, there isn’t much else, to this game, life, is there? Divisive, or decisive, now, he will show you, his ass. I’m a little bit, embarrassed, to admit to you, what I do, and don’t, do. There are no philosophical reasons, for a car crash. The issue, of being a writer, or, not, comes down to whether you consistently, write, or, not. The cream of the crop, and the cream of the crop, only, ceases to be, an issue. Try to look, great? If you manage to find love, of any kind, outside of your family, consider yourself, to be among, the lucky ones. I believe, that there is nothing, to believe in, anymore. If you find yourself, becoming, that way, stop it. When your hands, start shaking, would you really, do this, all over, again? Most, not all, of the people, we care about, are long, since, dead, and, passed/gone. All this reading…what good, has it really, done me? From the start, way back when, a few of us, saw it, for what it, is/was, namely, shit smearing. It is, in vain, that we imagine ourselves, on talk shows, and there are other reasons, not to do this, as well. We’re lucky, we weren’t, wasted, people stood, and stared, but, it was over with, pretty quickly. What was the problem, with, Will? Free love, free drugs, free donuts (probably, paid for, dearly). Well, if we kick them, they'll, fall down. Our personalities, need taming. Nowadays, we try not to waste too much time, on overanalysis. The ugliness, and beauty, seem to coexist, quite naturally. It isn’t a theory, it’s a dogma, it’s a sponge. They all race, to quicken the pace, but, a slow meander, always wins, the race? Our memories, are too selective. Kick, kick, kick, and, sit? I have this, thing, about trespassing, in backyards (I can’t, stop). Don’t you think, we’ve heard, more than, enough, “entertainment news?” Unleash the excess! I wasn’t fit, for saving. Just black out, and leer. You could’ve, had some.
Love, is a couple of more smiles, than frowns. We want to be the, best, not these things, we are. Turn those stupid, cartoons, off! Don’t babble, to fill up, space, when there is nothing, to say. Quite a turn of events, wouldn’t you, agree? I can’t even keep my eyes, open (or, closed). I am trying to fashion, a makeshift, desk, and I’m encountering, a great deal, of difficulty. The policy shifts, will render us, obsolete, oh, there will be some, supposed, “investigation.” Enjoy the harvesting, of your discontent, whatever it is, that you’re hooked on, etc. The moose, was attacked, by asshole, college students, and, I think, it died. You puked, all (fake it, to, make it) over, everything. This, is the sound, it made… Whatever happened, to our machinery, our, mailbox? Call it, acute, hangover, tension. Put the bone, in the tire. We ain’t seen, too, too, much, of the country. There are no excuses, but, I guess, we don’t know, that. To Delaware, and to hell, with whatever, we may miss, somewhere else! I want to be, long, gone. I saw the, um, fumes… The cave, will be explored, we should worry, about the things, that we do, that keep us, sitting on our asses, and, not, actually, doing anything. I left no, forwarding address, to hell with it, Millie, baby, don’t want to get a hold of me, no how. We’re asking for freedom, without any, “trouble.” ‘Round about, four years, out of school, it becomes crystal clear, which, if any, crosses, we’ve got to bear. My scum, is the kind, that the dishwasher, won’t/can’t, take off. Don’t let it happen, to you, whatever it is. Man, I’m not trying, to be crazy, I’m just winding up, crazy. Going on three, plus, hours, now, unable to come up with any free flow, of thought, or, any other kind. I’m attempting to edit, or censor, myself, about whatever, before it happens. My shower repair shop, is really, a front, for some government, sting operation. It was not me, who rolled in cat litter, and did, whatever the hell, else. I cried, whined, and bitched, but, after all that, looking back, now, I didn’t even deserve, a catalog. The parking garage, is after me, to pay, some, outstanding, debt. All the stars, are dilated. The buildings, look like walls, and clouds, like mountains. Who is that, “love letter,” to, and for crying out loud, why? Throw the wet octopus, into the ditch, break into the birdhouse, review the process, it takes, to successfully, lay an egg. Fang at the twitch, find out, on what day, and, at which, time, any female, is…the abyss, sure is, deep, ain’t it? They have no idea, how many people, they are damn, near, destroying, by constantly, raising the price, of stamps, wait, on second thought, they probably, do. Perhaps, I should turn down the radio. Well, ha, ha, ha, hee-chee, hoo-hoo. To do the work, of a chickie-chuckie, to la-la-la-la-oh, no, I mean, oh, boy! Somebody, tore the back cover, off of the book, and whoever, did so, did it, rough. I wish I could upchuck, vomit, on demand. A one, and a two, and a three, if I were a plum, I’d want to be, a good one. That girl, who was guarding hell, tonight, had no idea, how much she meant, to me. Boldly, turn the lights, on, and continue. The batteries, are dead, and that thing, takes so many batteries, that, why bother? The scratchy, sounds, that I hear, in my head, now, will be like soft, subtle, whispers, later. Nothing ever happens, how, or, when, it’s supposed, to. This is a serious endeavor, not some sound off, into the mist. There are no such things, as quick fixes, aids, to use, that would enhance, the act. There are no phone contacts, or, promising leads, that are going to help us, to…this new diet, says that we can continue, to eat cake! Fuck up the air, with, grease, grit, geese, filth. The florist, was, for the most part, miscellaneous. We just, don’t care, anymore.
Don’t let your kids, become spoiled, rich, assholes, like you, are. She’s gonna’ get pretty sick, of me, oh, yeah! Less people, should get married, and have children, way, less. This isn’t even, in English, yet. All of the sudden, I find myself, eating too many, ketchup, and mustard, sandwiches. Let go of the remote control, you hold, on being, for awhile. I, didn’t, care, I do, now. They barked, like seals, for their, rewards. Everyday, we anticipate, sex acts, and they are never, brought to fruition, most thoughts, most all, thoughts, that we think, don’t. Be biased, against, the hypnotist. Practice your fractions, sing along, to the song, wonder about the mailbox, offend the next generation, all at the same time, don’t forget, to, flush. The puddles, became lakes. What was I going to write, but, subsequently, forgot? All of the sudden, some opinion, may rise up, from within you, beware. The bottom, is as much fun, as the top. Slip into the ooze, only, partially. Reside now, here, we all, must go on, to follow, to the grave, the ones, that came, before us. It takes, an entire life. We introduced, a new, dry cleaning, technology. There shall be, no more, fear. Falling to the floor, that night, I realized, that there were only eight hours, until I had to be back, at work. The spaced out girl, threw, or, seemed to, throw, her head, around the room, like a bean bag, toy. So, I’m phony, so, I don’t go out, on Saturday night, and, what if, I’m fading, fast? I can’t seem to do, the poetry thing, any justice, it’s like a strange mixture, of hashish, that your mother, was on, that one, day. Doggone it, we got ripped off, three bucks. The “only things, worth doing,” are they, really? Someone pooped, near here, I’m scared to count, how many, times. Well, just because I’m not, especially, attractive, doesn’t mean that we can’t take the pretty people, on, with our fists. We got the lowest prices, on (wholesale grain) electronics, guaranteed. The sources, of contention, have all been, layered, now, people, are smiling, laughing, feeling good, being confused. You are gonna’ get, squeezed. Nothing remains, of the flesh, of our bodies, after we’ve been dead, a few years. The girl, you found, that keeps you in the shower, she will regale, against, the stiffness, pretentiousness, politics, gum, sticky tape, fluffies. There is no, directors cut, there are no, original, pancakes; what is this hair shop, or, television, shit? Code word, formaldehyde. Dairy Mary, put down the, fans? Uh-oh, I lost the other half of, the pseudo-porno, photo. I thought I knew, what was bothering me, and what, wasn’t, as well as, that, it was, or, wasn’t, as it turned out, I didn’t, know, any, of those things. Sneer at your audience, beautiful, just, beautiful. On the back of a receipt, for goods, received, from a supermarket, there, it was, written large, life sucks! Your entire organization, is a farce. No artist, is ever, “pleased,” there is no satisfaction, to speak of. Is that a zip code directory, or, a diagram, of how to cut a side of meat, into its, components? The fake, marble, counter top, is starting to crack, so am I, but, I’m pretending, that I’ve, “made it,” that, I, “have it,” and, that, “it,” will never go, away. A college campus, in-between semesters, can be a pretty barren, blank, lonely, and quiet, place, to be. Nowadays, I can’t even pace through the room, and chew on towels, the place is a literal, trash heap, no movement, of any kind, can occur. Gravity, became a kind of, submission. Explore the asphalt, with your face. The lamp, is a little, bit, bent.
