059

I’m through, with abstract dreamscapes, and idea spaces, they lead, absolutely, nowhere. Well, I probably do, hate myself, but, I don’t care enough, for anything, really interesting, to ever come, from that. My life, has taken a few, wrong turns, too many, and, I know, all there is, to know, about far too many, dead-end, streets. I want, to fall, flat on my face, but, not that much. The marriage is off, metaphorically, speaking. My hand, is becoming deformed, the baseline, is steady, clear, and rhythmic. It is time to wrestle, and sharpen our pencils, maybe, even, change the radio station. Sue me, I’ll probably, enjoy it, it’s alot like sex, in a way. When I think about fairy tales, I get a tremendous, erection, of the type, that acts as a totem, and has to be scratched. They put a mask, on me, and I, went under, I’m trying not to confuse myself, with anybody, important, again. It’s all hype, and has been’s, over the hump, to the next hill, dried eggplant, fungal infections. We’re puppets, of some kind, so, it would, indeed, appear. At this point, I am a wobbling, top, approaching entropy, it’s expected position, of absolute stillness, after some, flourish, some, dynamic action. I never had a tape player, in the car. Leaps, and starts, indeed. The real stuff, tastes better. So, sure, of so many things…and then, there were (ha-ha) scrambled eggs (ha, ha, ha). Open wider, I don’t think that any half-assed, efforts, are going to get, any of us, ahead, in anything, we do. We’ve got to be realistic, and honest, this, “writing thing,” will get me, absolutely, nowhere. Consummate your lust, underneath the town gazebo, where the ragtime band, sometimes, plays at, in the summer. Everything, yes, everything, I don’t care what it is, is a, rip-off, a gigantic, gigantic, rip-off! Love, is only, the weird, something, that we blame, our pathetic, ridiculous, stupid, behavior, on. My résumé, looks like a third graders. Sure, there are jokes, that I play, but they never have any punch lines, they’re hard to figure out, if not, impossible. Pay close attention, to what, your physiology, wants you, to do. I want to get away, with, it, X. If only I could counterfeit, money, nine-tenths, of my current problems, would be solved. The machinations, of our brains, are more akin, to glue, that is faulty, in some way, glue, that doesn’t work. Hide your pain, shame, embarrassment, and despair. The more money, I get, the less, it seems, like, I do. I have been fired, from a dozen jobs, quit, a few more, than that, and failed to get, double, or, triple, those two categories, put together. The computer, and what it does, or, can do, does not interest me, in the least. The goal, is to be as vicious, and disgusting, as possible, I suppose, all you could say, that I am doing, right now, is experimenting, a subtle form, of masturbation, where there isn’t much, risk, and, even less, fun. Everything, has its price, testicles, hurt, when kicked, where are my jerk-off, magazines? Right now, I’m not able to ascertain, when it was, exactly, that we engaged in our, “relationship.” The atmosphere, was that of a dungeon, the stump of the tree, made for a great, makeshift, crapper. Art, is a career, for (fools, mostly) morons, dumb shits, lazy flops, doofuses, shit heads…not… no artistic project, is ever done, hence, the lack of confidence, in the product, that they eventually, force us, to put out/puke up/shut up. This is the kind of nightmare, that just, goes on, and on… We’re only insane, while we’re, alive. The many, resent, the few. My mania, is, shabby.
We might as well, have broken down, crying, in the liquor store. Stain the beautiful, chair, it’s going to happen, soon enough, anyway. All of the sudden, you’re forty, beware! A situation, develops, is partially, resolved, and later, after more conflict, is fully, and finally, resolved. Well, apparently, edginess, has taken the place of presence, as the quality, that all cinema stars, are practicing, and being coached, so well, to exhibit, these days. I hate you, but, since I don’t want to spend the rest of my life, in prison, I will not, kill you, and you know, who you are! I’ve missed, more than my fair share, not that I’ve ever expected things, to turn out, “fair.” It’s not all here, very little of it, is, as much as I would like, and am trying, to put it all, here. I hope you’re kidding, that’s not funny. The smell of eggs, may be the most rancid, of them all. I wouldn’t exactly, call it, amusing, not anymore. Sometimes, just seeing a too-white, van, on the road, is all it can take, to cause a drug relapse. The crystal meth, jacket? Like a mosaic, was the part, I left out. We’re a couple of minutes, away, from the news, we don’t care much, for it. The shoe, along the road, was sniffed, licked, and thrown back, down. I didn’t find the belly button lint, in the sandwich, to be very funny, either. Yeah, I know all about, “the thoughts, one thinks, while swimming.” My hands, won’t let me, shift this fucking car, out of gear. Don’t stare into the light bulb, for inspiration. It could be, that our thirsts, are for things, other than, fluids. It’s a mushroom cloud, world, or, it will be, soon enough. These dances, lead to another, lack of balance, and equilibrium, if carried out, too long. The next one, will walk by, if you, need, a next one. All genres, are one, now, the sound of doo-wop, can be rapped to, etc., I enjoy fucking, myself, every time, someone else, has been involved, something has gone, wrong. No matter how much, we try, or, how much, we do, it does not, matter. We need money, and there is no easy way, to get it. It is, earlier, out west, right now. As I dry up, and rot, people, just look on, they are doing things. Smile, down the drainpipe, like a new, sort of, surfing. Bit, by bit, this entire thing, will be, torn apart. Don’t you dare, ever, think, about fucking my sister, she’s mine. She spread her legs, like warm butter. These days, we have all of our sex, at the foot of the bed. The greatest thing, that there, is, would have to be, sex. We’ve decided against, constant worry. Loan me, a million. Everything was just a little bit bigger, the fatter, they were. Well, yeah, persistence, pays off, but you have to understand, that persistence, can be perceived, as, mania. The more upset, that I get, the more apt, that I am, to get pelted, with wet, wadded up, paper towels. Does my dying, offend you? Let’s do something, totally, crazy, like, walk around the block, in the exact opposite, direction, that we usually, do. The way the system, works, right when you get an erection, for one girl, a better looking one, appears. Chew it, quietly, please. Go back, in time… To succeed, you must (like, sonar) act, stupid. They shrink, the sizes, and raise, the prices. Shall we extol the virtues, of true love, even though, it will never happen, to, us? In the dream, she (keep the closet door, shut) was wearing, pajamas. This is what you’ve been, waiting for. Melody, and skip, did it. You can’t smoke, anymore. You’ve got to stop, arm wrestling. Loud yelling, disrupts. The way to become old, fast, is to isolate yourself, in some project, that takes years, and years, and offers, no rewards, whatsoever. Your horse, will win a race, the corn, will ripen, the scum, will come off the side, of the sink. Anything good, that may, or, may not, happen, always happens, too late, to mean, a goddamn, thing. My wrath, will be understood, within a few years. The turkey’s plumes, are all puffed up, just like the guys, at the bar. Go out, and stalk someone, they won’t really, mind. Hold up the salt. The unjust acts, took place. School, threw me, just, threw me, like a clumsy drunk, off a donkey. We sit, alone, or, at least, some of us, do, and those, who do, recognize, that this, is the only way, to truly, be. Invade your own mind, cross things off, put new things, in. Doctor, why are you putting butter, on my ass? Market your little, eugenics program, see what happens. Should I tremble, now, or, wait awhile, wait, for some frightening, event, to take place? Explore, the (admit it, no fear) unexplored, realms, of the human, reproductive system! The spinning, turned into, revolving, which was different, then, the wave, became, a blanket, that was being waved, by the wind, in the backyard. Sweeter than sweet, is a nice, hat, or, some delicious candy, people, can’t get that way, unless they’re over, age eighty. The government, taxes enough from us, too much, if you ask me, to expect us to do something else, for it, forget it. Stop thinking about, “tator tot, tits,” concentrate. Where will I be, when the lights go out, for the final time? Someone yelled, about blood, and semen, found on a vagina (um, no, a record sleeve).