Sing some stupid, ridiculous song, get wild, get fondled, get a half-off, crucifix. With every fold, every shocking scene I am forced to endure, I get colder, and colder, to my own caress. One by one, people come home, where they want to be, and stay, there is always a kind of acceptance. I always...what the hell is there to say? I leave, soon. Sometimes, the crush of having to do things you don't want to do, is like turning taciturn, inside out. Go into your own head, and don't come out, color the pony, pink, the tree, red, the sky, purple, as opposed to teal, aqua, light blue, or taffeta. We want Mexican kisses, we want what we want, usually, the things, we can't ever have. There is a solemn responsibility, to uphold, there is a dizzying amount of wash, to be done. Your days of doing what you want, and directing your own self, in your own personal, private, film, are over. Being taken advantage of, is the one thing that will not happen, again. Get me back into a part time setting, see, I'm after fulfillment. En masse, the rushes arrive home, so literally, we greet them. Bend down further, go back to what you were imagining earlier, thank anyone, anywhere, regardless of whether, or not, they've done anything for you. I've got to get out of there, before I get used to it. There is secret money, somewhere, that I've got to get my hands on. Nothing, whatsoever, applies, the training, will not take place. Even if I’m drunk, I’m sober. There will not be a basement meeting, where all things become known, and all secrets, will be revealed. The cake became like hatbox philosophy. What are you doing on this (he was holding a package of spices) side of town, pretty legs? Slide across the pipe, with no fear. This, is why! My brain was/is, melting. She still sees Christ, in the oil stains on the driveway. Some people, the successful ones, work from morning, until dusk, on tasks that pay, important, from the standpoint of being, money-making. We’re in the shadows, and just don’t care, anymore. It may be getting too late, to continue forward, in this vein. People lie, they just give false advice, that sounds good to say, to shut you up. We don't know who we are, and how can we? The hidden, remain hidden, everything bad, gets worse, if left unattended, the beginning of the future, is now, not three, or four months, down the road. Throw me in some special, bio-hazard baggie, like a dental filling, removed. It would appear, as if, there was going to be one more, to do later, who cares? Twenty plus years, and I'm clicking my heels, for forty more. The idea of the bizarre pathway, was not. Control of ideas, you know, some leashing, may be in order. Speaking of order, you'd better get cracking. Who, in their right mind, would have ever tried to copy, my paper? Get dressed, prepared, get up, get out, and go, make your stops, if you feel you must, but always come back to this, and more resolutely. Do not, for one minute, allow yourself to forget, that what is important, is that you do things, to keep you off the street, poorer than poor, more disturbing circumstances, than can, currently, be imagined. That is the only reason why this, is to be done, at all, and the only reason why, no (you’re it) outside employment, can ever live up to… any security, I need to have. My next book, is called, Do Not Ever, Ever, Think About Writing a Fucking Book (for your own health and sanity)! Misbehave, inflict some sullen exaltations, recant. Get obscene, depraved. I don't know for sure, if you can, do it, but, of course, you're free to try. Today, will be like yesterday, unless I am different, which, I hereby, resolve to be. Glen had it pegged, imitate him. Keep one eye on the door, at all times. Laugh, only at what's silly, don't go off the deep end, deeper, don't wipe shit out of the bathtub, anymore. Tap on the plate, to let the animal know that he can feel free to eat the food, that's on it. I am not able to speak German. Too late, now, try again, later; get done, now, with what you couldn't finish, earlier. Maybe I should go out to the catering truck. Too much food, an insatiable need, that is never satisfied, stop it, stop all of this. My day, did not exist, rather, it doesn't matter, it was ridiculous. From start, to finish, six hours, there were nothing but mistakes, errors, there really wasn't anything to do. Some of this, and some of that, none of it matters, it's all so stupid. A glass of pop was thrown at, and on, me, and I didn't enjoy that, at all. How can I get the hell out of (waltz out) something, I just got myself, into? Forget bliss, and my routine, everything. See, it is going to be the same thing, each, and every, day, feeling uncomfortable, because there is nothing to do, listening to that batty-woman, fret, the kid, doing nothing, it's just going to get worse, from here. Things pass you by, and usually, the things that do, should. Don't forget the young peacocks, don't forget to... it's too easy, I've sieved off the last shift. Male objects, female objects, what the hell can I do, to make any difference, there? I am a dictator, but have no podium, or code words, to reward the throngs, with. People are always, and everywhere, going to be jockeying for power, filtering, and fishing, around. My life, may just as well, remain, ambiguous. If some lessons could be enacted, if only something, could surprise me, if there were something to say, to anyone. Take care of your own business, wash your own clothes, put down the lab assistant, clean the car, inside, and out. The principles, are shady, and shifty, look for clues, look for a way. As soon as possible, leave where you are at. Take out your inferiority complex, on the people around you. Any, and every, television program, is disguised/designed, to make us feel inferior, and poor, as individual people. When seven thousand questions, come tearing into you, whatever melancholia you suspect, I can't fink, and cheat, my way out, of any of this. My attempts at initiating, are met with disapproval, I am to keep my mouth closed, do work, and then some, keep the secrets, kept, yeah-yeah. There is no permission, for me to do anything, there is no fruit for us, left on the table. We are required to fill ourselves on nothing, but that which, will weigh us down. The police will be called. Put it into my vagina/hole. Did you embarrass yourself at the party? Everything is slow, except our lives! I want to roar off, be scared of that thing, that isn’t even real. Don’t leave any of this out, please. There was a lot of rusty water in the old wheelbarrow. Will life ever be tolerable?
Type quickly, son. Why does it always have to be a war, or famine, in order for society to change? We go around in circles, we had our chances. Because your number just came up, and it doesn't appear as if, anyone, is going to come forward. Look for, what's worth looking for. I am interested in your demonstration, ma'am. Had a bit of a fright, in the driveway, eh? Your so-called speech impediments, and supposed search warrants, have not (he is fussy) dissuaded me, yet. This alcohol! Leave the field, now, currently, there are no desires, at all. Put on the miles, without even having to leave the porch, without new/classic, cover-ups. Let them, be talk show hosts, with their ubiquitous, selves. The measure, is that there is nothing to be measured by, or, for. The guitar, was shattered, the enigmatic, coffee shop clerk, looked like someone on the cover of a dime store novel. Cajole the shouters, for two hundred dollars under the table, per week, anything goes. Wowsers, chance encounters, goals, and directing, dark lines, under your eyes, and deviation from the norm. Who will be the next person, to play jazz, like there's no tomorrow? Let this be further recognition, of my slackness, and baseness. There aren't going to be any golden domes, for us! The border town, slide show, really opened my eyes. Due to the theft, misplacement, or accidental destruction, the forms, that I was to bring in, are gone. The place for me to, so to speak, address myself, has not yet, been found. Fired, fired, quit, with no notice, laid off, and on, and on. This brief episode, is going to be more than one chapter, in my book. Come upon us, stay alive, on to the next page, indeed, on to the next page! This has got to stop. Anxious to pose, wish, sing, sweetheart? There is no rest; repeat. Rub against strange furniture, often. What is this, my way, or no way, has it not been made abundantly clear, that your way, isn't working? We’ve become quite formless. How can this be? Something is wrong with us, but we’re never going to know what it is. Addiction, and disease, are only words, forget about your math problems, put a few things, behind you. We must help ourselves, now, it's up to us, and nobody else, really gives a shit. Nothing can be proved; even though I was going to write that three times, I think once, will suffice. Flunk, why not? Take the towels, or washcloths, with you. Where was it, you almost decided to go, tonight? So, I'm a pervert, don't be alarmed, some of us, just turn out this way. Can't stop the catharsis, from occurring, can't resist, a few swollen moments, this trance state, is of the sort, that you can't snap out of. There is something fishy, going on, here. Complain a lot, knowing all the while, that it will never change, anything. The hole I'm digging, is like my own grave, in the flowerbed. Inside the idea bubble, I begged to be taken seriously, and for help, to live. See, if only we could coil, and recoil, at will, like snakes. This is like the pantyhose grip, I mean, uh, an outdated grid...but my dreams, and fantasies, have no place here. To the girl at the store, I love you! What was all this talk, about politicological, blank mutton, neck rubs? All I have to say to you, is, hold on to the steering column. My "nervous breakdown," consisted of tripping over a shoe, and falling down in the living room. Get a divorce, only buy milk, in paper cartons, fiddle with papers, duplicate numbers, Freaks feel emotional pain, in higher registers? To know too much, is to impersonate a miniature, insurance salesman. Oblique; 171.18. You're not fit to govern, take your low physics, and bizarre functions, to three, consecutive, demolished lawn mowers. Think more about agriculture, do not allow the use of microphones. What the hell are these big, halcyon cash-ins? Send out several queries, in search of careers, for education, whatever. Don't buffalo me, I'm aware of the blackboard dangers, green. What kind of structures are these, and who put them there? Ass/ash, taste/flavor? Comment on the consumption of dairy products. An awful lot is at stake, when one fucks off. Kitten problems, skating rinks; where is your wigwam? Don't miss your photo opportunities, be they seventeen years ago, or sometime, next month. Beautiful, means the beauty, itself. Become psychology, self diagnose. We are requesting a vast reduction, in the amount of air, we're allotted. Then, he went into bookmode, and ruined everything. Laugh, despite the utter pointlessness, of it all. They always stop liking me, which is no surprise. Switch buses, switch singers, no more crazy feelings; it is time to do, be, perform, function! Do whatever you want, anything that feels good, to hell with the law, or what people will think. We have a roster of writers, we use. This may, or may not, go as far, as bubble gum cards. Wish list, bratwurst; it will remain cold, and wet, outside the warm, and dry, lean-to, tonight. Simplify/complicate, this is midway, between confusing matters, further. Will there be any disturbing frequencies? We're not political, we're not spies! Let there be a scream, or, a whisper; people, smoke pot, I don't. This is a prestigious disillusionment, the tree will continue, to have bark. Who seduced who? That lamp is to remain off, there were ideological scars. You naturally assume, that other people, are, as you are, they are not! Kay, I would like the record to reflect, my long standing devotion, to the company, my attention to detail. And I don't know what to do, anymore, but I feel, so warm. Give me a key to the office, these watertight orifices, take a little, to a lot, of getting used to. I would appreciate any ideas, or feedback, as well as I would like, some assistance. The paint in the bathroom, must be a darker color. Was that torn out of the notebook? I am a touch annoyed, by what I am seeing, around here, I am looking. Two months worth of Tuesdays, can't be a test of our fortitude. Listen, I want to be you, and I don't even, and can't possibly, know, who you are, or where, or what the hell you're doing; I don't care, all that would seem to matter, is that I, escape me. Thoughts quiver, new ambitions, are difficult to come by, figure it all out. What will the next ambitious project, be? We decided to start hoarding honey. Like the limp rubberband, after the stretching.
Life/loss, is lighter than air. A complete act, is sitting in a backyard, on a Fall day. Any sort of manic state, is a phenomenon, we wait patiently for. Chewing my nails, recording the screams, of some primal orgasm, in the woods, or, in my car, somewhere, where no one else could have heard me. I'm bored, I don't know what it is, what the answer is. There are a lot of coats in the room, a lot of toys, to play with, not a lot of hats, to wear. Wait just one minute...not without some kind of ladder, what about tomorrow? More about that, when the time comes. It’s time to wash Boo-Boo, again? I’m not funny, this is no comedy club, anything. Firing the gun, gave me a very sexual charge, indeed. Erased from 75,000 feet, there are bugs in the bedroom, there is a loud cricket, in here. The dead people's basement, the sloppy disregard, gossip, innuendo, that I didn't realize I was hearing. It's always three balls, two strikes, two outs, always! Yes, I am an absolute nobody, as far as the world, is concerned. Very pleased to meet you, my name is Frank. I prefer K. Francis, but since it's highly improbable, that you will remember my name, it doesn't make much sense, for me, to tell you this. Also, I prefer Frank, to any other previous names. You don't care about me, because I can't give you anything. I'm not blaming you, or crying about it, in fact, you're quite right, I have absolutely, nothing to offer my readers (or anyone else, for that matter). See, I'm on the outside, looking in, the circle has been drawn, and I'm standing outside, I'm only saying, it would be swell to have something to offer, but I don't, yet. In order to give, you've got to have something to give. Shit, I don't want to live anymore. Fuck this shit! Anyway, onwards towards delirium, and alcohol treatment meetings, work I can't stand, probation, high insurance, no insurance, no writing getting done, or even attempted, envy, jealousy, stupidity, clowning around, to hide my pain, and watching my hair grow, bothering myself. What you and I have in common, is our defiance. Fuck (softly) everything! Questions, that are continuously asked, and never answered. A impetuous, whining child, it's true. Waiting for mommy, and daddy, to stick a worm into my beak. Hoping the hoof, doesn't boot my ass, right out the door, not yet. Save your wishbone’s. Insinuating (0) zero! The slipping is happening, this is nearing the end. I thought I chopped things out, that are still here. Take control of the things that you really, can’t. To what degree, am I perverted? To what do I attribute, "the voices"? Is there even a chance, anymore? The source of your frustration, would be? All very interesting questions, you've raised some good points, thank you. She started stretching, right in the middle of the store, it was, to say the least, arousing. For all those who didn't make the grade, and are hoeing their rows, or, rowing their hoes, hi! We didn’t go by an outline. We only wish (after all), that we had some kind of lives, to live. Get them all! Cold, wet, concrete, put your face on it, grow up, toss the mildewed undergarments, down the laundry chute. I will never earn, or learn, will I? Will I never, fucking, learn?! Just let me die, in my own way, in my own time, and by my own hand, okay? People who get TB, get TB infection, first. A person can have TB, for years, without any signs of disease. Licensure is granted, by state, professional boards. In a four year study, recently conducted, it was found that shoes, say a lot about people's personalities...I just glued my hands together, to see how it would feel. Put an X by his name, smile for the camera, if you like. Down go the pants, belts that… needing belts, oh, it's a psychedelic, price tag! The strange, other species, could be either one, throw the fish up high, and catch it, down low. Scream in bewilderment, scream for peas in a can, and their "impossible" consistency. These are fine pants, let's get these pants hemmed. A giant guy, with hooves, appears, less bent, talking crazy about caramel, and then, he's gone. Ancient hats, at flea markets, mirrors of the dead, canes of the dead, everything here, used to be owned by somebody else, and all of them, are dead. Moron pride, doesn’t help the moron, to stop being an idiot. Some people, see you like you are. Yes, it went all the way in, easily. I can feel how much fatter, I have become. Actually, they all know… totally.
This is reminiscent, of Connecticut's troubles. Foul days, pile up, and settle, into bunches. Things were more, on a need to know, basis. It only would have complicated matters, to let you in on the full gravity of the situation. See, I've chosen this reality, I'm affording it. Even though I just saw the sky fall, it looked like a black blotch, crashing, at supersonic speeds. If you've seen those pictures, yes, I not only look, fucked up, I am. Not on any substance, more on my little daisy patch, if that makes any sense. Yes, I still hear the sirens, and a little more often, than the first Saturday of the month, or whatever. It's easier, to snap. I'm loaded down by starch, my bowels are bound up, there are breaks, and respites, from time, to time, in between the bad news. I lost my wings, ma. See, people want clean, people don't want, dirty. People think that different, means wrong, more now, than ever. If you look, even the least bit, out of step, they're sure of your deviant tendencies. Ah, we should just take a trip out there, see what there is to see, buy some postcards, take the guided tours. Even with an aching back, why it aches, I don't know, work begins at seven A.M. sharp! It grows back, but it takes a long time, and with every passing year, we have less, and less, and that precious, precious, commodity. Yeah, I still smile a lot, cut-up, laugh, you know, but that's not the way I'm really feeling, it's that humor as a shield thing, that Phil was talking about, during one of those basement parties, of four, that never ended. And I still talk a lot of Zen smack, but that's, likewise, a circus of hypocrisy, not quite par, on that front. Yeah, still mired in a pessimism, that was substantiated, by all those existentialist, yahoo's, after the fact. The power has gone out, just as it has before, just as it will, again. Go and tell her, about the end. Moody for no reason, purges, dashes, rivers, that flow for a while, then, dry up. As far as dragging people along for the ride, and then dropping them off in the middle of nowhere, bewildered, well, things are calm, on that front. All is well, by that clock tower, which is to say, that people have gotten wise to me, my act, my sideshow antics. Our dignity, integrity, all gone. My handwriting, makes this look like, nothing is written here. Read your books, but check your oil, as well. I don't know what you were alluding to, in regards to cab drivers. As much as I still love you, it's that kind of love, that needs constant polishing, so, that's not really what it is, at all. There are things that need to follow a template, a timetable, and it's true, I'd like assurance, that you received that gift, but I know that assurance, is never anything to keep checking the mailbox, or phone messages, for. No, a comment, is a comment, it doesn't matter who, stood where. No balanced equations, long, all night, chat festivals. Tear the cubicles, or dividers, partitions, whatever, apart, in a wild, fit of anger, and rage. The drive-in, is closed. The same kind of things, that did happen, there, don't happen, here. Love, is really needing some book back, that you gave away, in some thoughtless, rapturous, unthinking moment, to some ex-girlfriend’s brother, six or more, years ago. Everything is still tumultuous, and for lack of a better word, off. You know, wearing suits, but, hopelessly, wrinkled suits. And the act, that I pull off so well, for other people's eyes, only for other people's eyes, I'm still better at fooling them, than I am, myself. I don't know...it sounds like tree sap, drying, and that's a compliment, or, a benediction. Let's turn this thing around, in our direction, it was bound to happen. There is no saying, "fuck it," when your under someone, or some system’s, thumb. When your numbers are plugged into the computer, you become a part of it. Nowhere to run, not that I feel the impulse, anyway. It's kind of morning, over here, could be 1:30, I don't know. Those boots, the ones I liked, are shot, and the replacements, have all the fixings, but the replacement of anything I've ever had, always pales in comparison, in fact, they are very shoddy, indeed. Yeah, it's easy, too easy, to pretend to be uppity, and happy, and the life of the party, when you want to blow your brains out. In fact, that's the sign that my internal life, is a bit visceral, on the teeter totter, of hither/yon, maybe/maybe not, who cares, and fuck it, anyway. The world wants more fast food restaurants, and superstores...it certainly doesn't want philosophers, and poets. It needs philosophers, and poets, but that's beside the point, as far as the world is concerned. Two crows on the weathervane, I know I've mentioned that, somewhere, before. I'm all swollen, but as far as the culture blender, it's beyond me. We wrap things up, put them in a basket, carry them (I’ve begun drinking, all the time). The sky turned blood red, and I fell out of the wheel barrow. I remember the peanut butter girl. All highways, are still convoluted, undergoing reconstruction, or repairs, of some kind, or the other. Whatever it is, it’s getting a lot worse. Let them, be them, you, be you!
