069

There couldn’t, possibly, be, a moodier, more messed up, person, as, myself. The ballroom, collapsed. Wave the wand, let it be. You missed a lot of mistakes, the second time, through. Thoughts, while sitting, in the backyard? My paranoid, thing, with, “the bugs,” is starting up, again. Wait for the next flicker, of inspiration? The insane things, that I’ve done, in my life, will never be, put right, again. My days, are most, surely, numbered. My life is (?) unmanageable, maybe, the doctors, can do something, for me, but, I am unable, to, anymore. You are cared for, I know that you haven’t thought of me, since our liaison, I must be, honest, that I, only have, from time, to time. Those are not my, photographs. The car, will sink, to the bottom, of the ravine. The bottom, has given out, on our brain pan, mixtures. What I go through, have gone, through, and, will continue, to go through, until I finally, pull the trigger, is just, indecent. Beyond misconception, we steer. Act like, a fish face. My immaturity, stupidity, lack of class, or, tact, those things, are why, I am, who, I am, plus, worse things. It’s more tragic, than, comedic. Some lady, came out of the cake, I was, flabbergasted… Dangerous windows, automatic writing, zits, alcoholism, low, self esteem, suicide attempts, late puberty, fat, all over, braces, low grades, me, then, and, it’s going, back to that, after, not having, been so, for a long time. Let’s go on a sex tour, to the near, East. Heather, I’ll never forget, what you did, for me. Load up the cart, with more shit, that you don’t need. Let me launch away, in a Zeppelin-type, balloon. Everyone wants, one of those, the kind, that don’t need to be begged, asked, coerced, placated, wined, and dined, or, forced. There is absolutely, no way, that I will ever, I mean, ever, fall in love, or, get married. There is no way, that I can continue, to hold, these limiting, and self destructive, beliefs. All of my children, are either, dead, or, incarcerated, due to the direct, involvement, of the government. Recently, I attempted to play the guitar, it sounded, distinctly, like a rooster, being killed, and that, was the end, of that, action. The tool, was treated, abominably, the tree, was, run over. The pathology, is spreading, throughout, the supposedly, “underground,” art community, which would seem to be, the epicenter, for the disease. It’s, neo-metro! Well, a’la, Van Gogh, no matter where you look, advertisements. Every single, dime, all of that money, that I worked so hard, to earn, is gone, once, certain things, are gone, there is never, any, getting them, back, again (or, is there?). The trouble, is, once you get a little, taste… Bite, softly, please, try to bite, more, softly. This is not, the (chemical safety) final version. Yawn, stretch, etc. The smell, of myself, is not making me feel, very well. And, so, it goes… Get into, the tent! Will the savings, ever be, handed down, to the customers? Something is horribly wrong, with my, legs. As one thing, slides into, another, we have all, got to keep in mind, uh, um, oh. The junk, threw me into, such a hustle, and bustle, kind of existence, there is no way, no way, that the dog, pressed its nose, up against the plexiglas, repeatedly. The basketball game, must have ended, the antennas, were finally, removed from my skull. Doing, what I’m doing, is, nil. What was that crap, about the worm, shedding its skin, in front of you? The arguments (the debt, gets to be too much, we get, oh, the rapture.), are over, the significance, life, has, they tell, us. My feet, are really, giving off fumes, today. Another hour, of diddling, and doodling, sketching, so on, when is this, going to end? The hour, or, two, of strutting, and fretting, will soon, come to an, end. The bird, with a broken wing, will fly, no more, but, let it die, on its own. This, is the process, and, I’m finally, forcing my way, to go through, it. Ah, the joys, of snorkeling, at Sunship Beach, for, them, not the street sweepers, and night watchmen, mind you. No hot tubs, jacuzzis, fire escapes. Shuffle by, the aqueduets. You won’t succeed, easily.
For some reason, I’ve come to believe, that nightclubs, are the saddest places, on Earth. I’m going into another, of my patented, dazes. No, look, there’s paper, here, man! If only I could, erase, my face, and draw, a new one, on. Take a lot, out, stop, putting shit, in! In retrospect, it’s a good thing, they left us, alone. Shit, I’ve still gotta’ recopy, those instructions. You just fucked yourself, you couldn’t, possibly, want, or, need, to do so, again! What, are you gonna’, flash them, bulbs, like you flashed, them, tits (heh, heh, heh)? If it exists, I am, it. Dynamite, is what got us, in. The used bookstore, went out of business, everything good, is, or, will. Ennui, was spelled, on the dust, of the abandoned, store, window. I think, I’m finally, ready, to be rich, and famous, now? Don’t look at me, I’m, what they, consider to be, a loser. Even if it’s impossible, make it, happen. There they were, on multiple, probations; let’s talk, about who, and where, you, would have, been. My plan, was to work on the phone lines, even, that, got all, complicated, and not, worth it. Ah, who could forget, the boo-boo, house, with all of its boo-boo, appliances, and whatever was happening, in the basement. The dancing, will take place, whether, or not, I’m there. I threw up, a prayer, and had it thrown, right back, at me, it involved preferring, Venus, to Jesus, but, I’m not sure. This complicated, chess game, doesn’t seem to allow, winners, or, losers, we’re all, in check, we’re only, tourists, here. Let’s start up, that Siam, built, pickup, load it up, with coal, and drive. There was definitely, some head shaking, going on, in the conference room, when I announced, my plans. Think, epically, nothing can come close, to matching, that. To the forefront, out, with, you. Something, has to happen, sometime! Donna, is still, on acid, directing traffic, and getting pregnant. The one thing, about fucking, is that, you can never get, sick of it. The songs, are a little bit, too lush, and overblown. Cut the wind, carry fire, round up, the water, for some crazy, midnight, dance. Shake your ass, shake your ass, bid, at the auction, lay down, the pad, before, the plush carpeting. So, pretty, so, chubby, flabby, and, jiggly. Please, mail me the pink slip, I don’t feel like waiting, right now. The same season, is coming around, again. Our plan, was to loot, the third grade, classroom. My veins, are bubbling, now’s, my chance. Those are some pretty, creepy, crazy, senses, man! Well, it must be, dense, and thick. Live, from Los Angeles, alcohol, flames, crooked, Frenchman, twisting, bumps, unethical, behaviors. Is there any way, out of, what fixes, we get ourselves, in? The nonstop, laughs, and thrills, are over. Let us, know! Remember the long, solitary, drives, that never seemed to, end? The talk, about diversity, is just, talk. She began salting, her fresh, wrist wounds, and spoke of having sex, with her therapist. There has got to be life, beyond the genetic, testing lab. Throw the mincemeat pie, into the grain elevator. We’re not, very likely, to receive, the proof, of the un-provable, as we, demanded. The factions, are dividing, drawing, further, and further, apart, from each other. Warp, beyond the system, rap, at your ceiling, with a broomstick, don’t get into trouble, with those ducks, in the (nothing, is true) backyard, who think that puddles, are ponds. Was it a wish, or, a folly, that sent us, down that road, that day? The first sting, bacteria, inside you, perhaps, there are things, that should never, be, said. I will revolt, you, the higher notes, even, more so, than the, low. It almost, seems to me, that I’ve ruined, my own, life, on purpose, for some reason. It is, my, life, and I refuse, to wear pants. This widespread, population growth, is going to force, each, and every, one, of us, right off the map. There is not going to be a donut eating, contest, not tonight, not tonight. Oh, so, this, is what’s going to happen, from now, on, eh (I don’t, think, so)? The threats, that I give myself, in order to spur me, on, or, get me started, are not being taken seriously, at all. It was a mistake, that I couldn’t afford, to make. The corners, are dark, flowers, are dead, whispers, are annoying, the tent, is pitched. You’ll have even less, sex, in the future. Buried, under (static) magazines. The boogie, dance, began, the arrangements, were stripped, the fall of Santa Barbara, was unplanned, in fact, it took everybody, by complete, surprise. I didn’t care, then, I suffer, now. Don’t hate me, just because I’m, despicable. Whatever was, is, no longer. Those barrels, used to be kept, in the basement.
The feeling, of being, out of control, is not, pleasant. It’s hard, for everybody, but, that doesn’t shut, me, up. There is too much variety, within any, one, person’s, life, to characterize, anyone. If a person, can make themselves, sick, they can make themselves, well, again. Such simple, simple, rules, and assignments, I give myself, only to fail, and flounder, at the next, available, opportunity. My psychological, problems, have put me, in a really, awful, state of mind, to be in. It’s not, that I’ve got to get it, together, it’s that I should have it together, already, it’s almost, too late, now. I can feel my brain, slipping down, my spinal cord. Maybe, we weren’t reading, the right, literature. I give you nothing, but, zinc. Sit on your toilet, and blush. St. Christopher, left me, for dead, in the road. I didn’t mean, to offend, anybody, but, since, I already, did, fuck you, again. I was the one, who punched a hole, in the wall. These arguments, with what, might as well, be, ghosts, have got to, stop. For better, or, worse, this book, is all that’s kept me, alive. Christ! Oh, I’m anomolous, all right. Visit, the grave, again (your own). Here’s something, for you, to chew, on. Spring the traps! Blow the lid, off the conspiracy, the last, and only, attempt, didn’t, work out, his girlfriend, would jump him, without his, even, asking. This, is the, freshness. Most of our dreams, will never become, reality. This place, is like, an airport. The truth, of the matter, is that I’m a, one hit, wonder. All, I guess, that I want to do, is fade away, into the background, and hope, that other people, enjoy the party. Too many, pizzas, too many, toppings, too many, choices, so many, in fact, that no choices, get made. No, energy, and motivation, will, bury you, if you don’t have them, pretend, that you, do. We’ve already had, weight, there will be, air, now. Something, died, underneath, our old, house. No one is happy, around here, of this, we can be, sure. Infinitesimal, forget it. The dead body, was found, along the highway. I am being laughed, at, someone, is laughing, at me, right now, I’m a bit baffled, by all, this. The fog, is so thick, I can’t see, two feet (boom). The deterioration, of my health, is of great concern, to me. Crave, the veer, to the left, I am the worm, the rest, of everything, is the dirt. Two Paw, has no downtown, to speak of. The chess team, champion, was caught, with his penis, somewhere, where it shouldn’t have, been. The company, makes its decisions, without consulting, anyone/any group…people suffer, and suffer, terribly. What did you, remember, this time? Someone’s garage, is my home, now. No, Ocean’s. Please, don’t waste me, that way, I beg of you, in advance. The gawkers, are out, in full force, tonight. We got a little too, hung up, on automobiles, canned food, and lint. The catch 22’s, will catch, you. They owe me money, and they are going to pay me. As it stands, right now, there are only, two hundred, trees. Put the gate arm, down, this is expected to be, the first priority. The way I’m holding my arm, should cut down, on fatigue. The ceaseless, dripping, of faucets, is what causes, the seven month, itch. To be free, to be as free, as a high school, physics, student. There should never be, people, sitting around here, exclaiming, that there is, “nothin’ to do,” there is always, something. Sitting, and watching, people, eat, is not an enjoyable, activity. When I first started, committing crimes, it was just to, survive, nowadays, I am trying to enact, some kind of, revenge. Nothing has changed, much, over the past, six decades, things, have just, shifted around, a little bit. There is no way, that we are going to allow, the religious, rally, to take place. I thought it was you, I thought it was you, the one, that I loved, with all my heart, but, it wasn’t; it wasn’t, and, it never will, be. There is something, indefinable, in the tangents. Do some sitting, and scratching. See where, and how far, something, outside of yourself, will take you. The book, is ruined, either, one. How much further, into the dark, do I want to go, today? It only seems, like the entire world, is against us, ruining, us. The new phrenology, is situationism, absolute delusion. Inspire, the very, rocks, to sing. We, never, wash our damn, faces. You, could, leave it, as, is. It’s like a hamburger, broiling.