057

We’ve got to stop, playing with ourselves! You just roared into my bedroom, like a truck. Sign your name, down at the bottom. Will the underrated team, win the tournament? My “career,” will be over, before it begins, thus, I am attempting, to throw everything, I can, at you, right now, if there even, is, a you. The end of statement, statement, could come at the beginning, just as well, as the end, and, it could all, cease, and desist, right here. The smoke machine, must be turned off, so that, cold air, is the only thing, “going on, around here.” Look, nobody is ever going to be, “safe,” there is no, safety. We’re attempting to eliminate, the proliferation, of hate mail, aluminum cans, clock radios. Bite his face, nobody should be allowed to double the price, of their products, goods, or services. My anger, and depression, are the same, as yours, I just find it harder, to all, hold in, nowadays. Put your penis, where your mouth, is…oh, Freudian slip, I meant, money. Those, ready to rock, will. The world famous, restaurant, got rid of its treasure chest, full of toys, for the kids, on their birthdays, not only, isn’t, it, a famous restaurant, anymore, it went out of business, years ago. Never before, in the history, of being here, and doing, what I’ve been doing, have I ever needed a paper clip, more badly. I’m trying to work on, my sense of spontaneity, right, now. There isn’t going to be another harvest, again, this year. Quick, how many trees, were there, on the lot, of your childhood, home? These styles, that I am currently, showcasing, rival the best, that Honduras, has to offer. Wring a slut, out of the bag! I just don’t care, about, anything, yet, here I am, still, trying to make sense, of it all, and it’s all, senseless, I already, know this. The secret, is to start, and not, to stop, until, you’re finished, and you’re never finished, when you think, you are, due to the fact, that you are, never finished! I’ll never forget, how expensive it was, to park, though, I’ve already, forgotten, everything else, that I’ve ever experienced, in my life. The harder you work, the more French/sexy, you’ll feel? My entire life, is dissolving, right before my eyes, and all I’ve got to show for it, are cigarette butts, which, will not, be dissolving, any time, soon. Take the, rich, and leave, the famous. I want my hair, back! My life, my entire life, is a joke, which is why I seem so serious, in the writing, and why humor, or ha-ha, is never attempted, in any way. Claim to have your own, personal, shitter? Stop crawling, in, and out, of the kitchen, there is no more, peanut butter. Guidance, don’t come (give a testimonil), cheap. What needs to be done, is, to do it, whatever it, is! Those ketchup sandwiches, that I eat (which, are all that I can, afford), all look like, aborted fetuses, or, brain clots, exposed, in a postmortem, and most suspiciously, all, taste like, chicken. Patty cake, your ass, like a, Lindburgh. There was, still, is, a vast, and complex, conspiracy, against the author, of this work, and, at all points, it’s goal (my destruction), has been, very successful. You get the general idea, I am, trying, to take up space. This is all going to, shit, so, now, you, and I, know. Talk, is air, wasted, that could be blown, into a saxophone. I don’t want it, to be night, again, without anything, having, occurred, all day. If you could see me, grope, and plod, through every day, you’d wonder why, I ever, bothered. We then, jumped up, and into, the movie screen. If I fail, it is, over, and I don’t mean, any number of projects, I’m currently, working on, I mean: IT IS OVER! See, it’s never going to be good enough, but, if it isn’t even, good enough, to sit next to all the other, crap, on the shelves…books on Angels, and happy, hippie, virtues, tomes, on soft babies, with pastel colors, gentle, gentle, sunshine, books…. I wanted to live, this, is what happened. It’s never, ever, over. Darkness, like jelly, being, spread.
Sick, as it sounds, I can’t wait, to stop, then, I reconsider, back, and forth. The Buddha, said things, best, which, doesn’t mean, that reincarnation, is true. Next thing, you know, you’re gone, so, be careful, and grateful, etc. Somehow, or, the other, I managed to avoid jail, today, then, later, a young woman, brushed against me, in the bookstore, by “accident,” but, the thrill, is the same. My psychological…boy, I must really, have some need, to express myself, for some reason. Let us end, our mutual needs, for joy, and pleasure, right here, and now. We, do, call the people, back, when it involves money, for us. I don’t want to go downtown, tonight, or, sit in that fucking nightclub, for, hours. On Friday, we could switch, one of those appointments, to Thursday…ignoring all the allegations, of wrongdoing, the patterns, emerging. Shit, the living, can’t be squeezed out, of, what we’re, given. Sing a hymn, to your pet, or, loved ones, try to…shit, none of these, have even been, started, yet. Most people, fuck, as much, as, or, more than, the rest of us, masturbate. Legs, can be very powerful, tools, and get a lot of work, done. We don’t want to celebrate, our new, found, success, because, first of all, it only looks like, we’re, in any way, successful. Mmm, mmm, hmmm, the pulsing, and throbbing, are the best parts, by far. The forgotten one, will be back, on the cover of magazines, in no time. Too many people, are out, and about, to make any movement, in that direction, a really, big, mistake, at this point. As I flip through the pages, my first, original, thought, is that of, sorrow. I’m out, cut off, from the crumbling, anal cleft. More people, should be shot, than, are currently, getting shot. The pushy, bastards, get what they, want. Bang your (scratch), head. I don’t want to finish this, I just, don’t care, anymore. Don’t bother (tell us, its, genuine), explaining, yourselves. This will be, a kind, of an, end. I can feel myself, getting fatter, and can’t get myself, to move. Don’t bother, forget (Pete, said it, best) it… A steak, was hurled, outward. Don’t forget, the plastic, chocolate bars. No more, milk. Is the only way, to ever, get anything, done, to get, severely, wasted, and, the next day, be surprised, and amused, but, for the most part, surprised? Eat me, any way you care, to take that…and, fuck you! I want to tear the words, right up, off of these pages, and plaster them, on some of your, faces. I’m not the only, shitty writer, who has ever, sucked, but, I don’t care, to hear that, from you. Someday, where I’m sitting, will be vacant, gutted, half, falling down, weeds, growing right up, through, the rotted away, remnants, of carpeting; objects, bones, and other things, will be scattered here, and there, the way that toys, used to be. My imagination, no longer works, thanks to the wonderful teachers, and schools, who tore, and wrestled it, away from me, handing me some worthless degree, as compensation/damages. My professional, wrestling career, is over, one piledriver, too many, a few too many, dings, to the old tinker. The news, only serves, to draw our attention, away, from the important issues, things, which require, our complete dedication, and, of course, none of these things, could be considered, “newsworthy,” at all. The buffet line, wasn’t exactly, a simple thing, to figure out. The disaster, can strike, at any time, I’ve been ready, for years. I think he said, “sound,” but, with a strange accent. Other people, used to live, here. My hands, have suffered, permanent damage, we might add, that, slap, for slap, we’ve dipped our ice cream, into the cone…It never fails, that once you’ve changed your underpants, some new, torrent, of flatulence, will envelop you, and throw you into the very depths, of crisis. Some idiot, accidentally, erased the tape. This is a belated, follow through. Shots, were fired, from what used to be, a gas station. Give him, a good, squeeze. Let it, go, on, and on…