073

I fall off the rigor mortis, log, from time, to time. Peer into, your own, skulls. We don’t know, what we’re, doing. The tarmac, disappeared. There is nothing, in any of this, I can point to, and be, proud of. This is the same, old, boring, shit. Be a genius, if you can, if there is, such a thing. You see too much fruit, in the sky. Don’t emulate, that little, fucker! Don’t believe the myth, that it will, “all fall, together.” The dizziness, is coming back, I didn’t think it, would, but, it has. Painting, is a secret, a secret, that most painters, are unwilling, to tell…no matter how, “unable,” to tell, that they, think, they are. These, “things, to latch on to,” aren’t as clear, as they once, were. The keynote address, didn’t reveal, any interesting, dust bunnies, or, flapping flags. These are attention, stopgap, statements, we’ve got to square, things, down, to the cotangent. So, so, vulnerable, so many, undercurrents, too few, positive, solutions. It was newsprint, fluttering, the water supply, in this town, is contaminated. Next week’s, events, probably, won’t change, our lives, or, end, them. If you even, come close, to arresting me, the network, will finally, kick in, and you will all, be, very, very, sorry. You are going to be up, all night, aren’t you? We’re all, susceptible! Like, with, five, to go, it seems, that I’d better get, going, into the going on, really quick. Leave it, all, behind (them, too). It’s about as barbaric, as the twist, the wattoosie, the wave… No love, no, twisted clouds, of love, will dot, the horizons. Pull into, the complex. It’s (crack, it) not my, doing. We accept checks, money orders… We’re, indoor, people. If you, pump it, in, you’ve got to pump it, out. No pair of pants, is ever broken in, until one (foul!), has, masturbated, in them? When turning, in a left turn, lane, be careful, that you have the green arrow, oftentimes, people, going in the opposite, direction, have the arrow, at that, time, and they will turn, right into you. No more summers, in the goddamn, tank. You can have, anything you want, anything. This all seems like Brazil, to me, a recurring dream, that has become, severely, boring. I’ve screwed up my life, enough, it is high time, for another, me, to step forward. There is absolutely, no comfort. Everything winds up, being shown, to us, nothing, is left, to the imagination, anymore. It’s overwhelming, our sensory mechanisms, can’t really, handle it, either. The news, keeps getting, reported, but, there isn’t any news, at all. This is a trick, that I learned, to make it look like, more, was done, than, actually, was. People, say, and do, very strange, things, in jail, maybe, they always, do, but, in jail, they are, seen. My hand, hurts, my hand, always, hurts. There isn’t anything, I want to do, I hate life. There are, like, a whole set, of responses, that none of us, even, know about. She poked me, head, out of the hut, said something, about computer games, then, ducked back, in. The snow, acts as a gloomy, and dreary, blanket, that doesn’t provide, any warmth, only, misery. Why am I doing, this? Answer,me. There isn’t going to be any goddamn, sleep, for me, ever! Maybe, bloodshed, is just what we all, need, to stir things up, a little bit. Our efforts, to stretch out, were in, vain. Ignore the cat’s, incessant (ask, why?), meowing, there is plenty of food, in her bowl. I can’t live my life, this way. The duo, cheated on their tang/pong/free fall, thing. They are going to come after me, alright, but, not in the way, that I want them, to. We are squeezed, slowly, like, toothpaste, until, our lives, are on the tile, and the tube, is in the trash can. I am no longer afraid, of you, fucks. Debauchery, is more than, called, for. Shake the box, make a guess. We will do, whatever we want, catch us, if you can. The promise, is usually, ridiculous, if not, always. Get ripped, lit, torn, drunk. Such lingering doubts, that aren't going, away. Fuck the stock market! Every hour, it’s something else, until, you can’t even, see, anymore. It became, a mesmerizing, shriek. The meaning of life, can never be, known. I’m getting sloppy, because, I don’t care, anymore. I never thought, that I’d catch myself, saying this, but, I want to find someone, to sue, and sue, big. The more sleepless nights, we have, the more insane, we get. My heart, was in the right place, but, I stayed at the party, too long, again, I’m just, not, A-list, material. Well, few people, can coin phrases, that last, for whatever, forever, is/was. In just, trying to rid myself, of the pain, and to feel better, just, to feel, a little bit, better, I took the whole bottle, of pills, I threw up, and went into a coma. These are only, semi-tone, disasters. Sometimes, our anger, gets the best of us. What they call, glucose, I call, food. Let us, walk in, like, Dodo birds. It’s a lot like, life, to be, honest. You’ve got to explain, how it, works (chaos).