078

If you’re going to do it, do it, forget about right, and wrong. I can’t break, in! I’ve created my own, hell, through the shit, I cause, and, keep, causing. Get what you want. Are you being contrary, anti, and, anti-contrary? If you’ve ever been, down, really, down, you can, probably, relate with me, but, you’re, the only people, and we’re, a very small, subsect, of the overall, population. The noose, is a perfect fit, the mystical conundrum, was, really, a lawyer’s idea, to make a few, bucks. “The big, wild, party,” turned out to be, somebody’s, funeral/wake! My shoddy, dental work, is beginning, to come, undone. Buzz me in, bitch. Don’t let the pen, hold, you, in it. Ayeww, no, I don’t, mean, anything, that I say, or, write, I’m telling you, I want you, to know, that I am dead, already, completely, and totally, dead! A year, and a half, ago, seems like, six (today). A nice, bloody, car accident, is very likely, to be, “the next step, for, me.” The drugs, aren’t calming me down, anymore. Althea, are you still, alive? My, “tough times,” were a picnic, complete, with butterflies, and cool, clean, air, pretty women, badminton, socks off, in cool grass. This is not the kind of shit, that I ever thought, would happen. It’s on days, like this, sunny, not a cloud in the sky, that people get murdered, by stupid, pointless, people, who should get killed, themselves. Wake up, avoid, the wet spot, go make, coffee. It’s the arrogance, that, no doubt, you can’t, stand. A lot of new things, have been happening. Yes, I was a male prostitute, for awhile. On, and off, our asses, talking donuts, wondering how we’re going to avoid, that thing, that’s coming up. I wanted to love her, more than anything, in the world, but, alas, she, didn’t! My index finger, itches, nothing, unusual, ever, happens, risk, is not good, but. The government, has holds on me, that you can’t, imagine. I want to speak, fake, Spanish, and rhyme, but, things, like that, just, aren’t done, by people, like me. The deep abyss, of (I’m hooked) shame, won’t seem to let us, crawl out, of it. No matter what we do, nothing matters, and, everything, does. This is deep, and terrible, trouble, I’ve found myself, in, and there is no, getting out, that, I can, currently, imagine. Why didn’t I make love, to that girl (I was, afraid)? The last time, I waxed my legs, a gritty residue, remained. I am a sort of, a grain elevator. Down to my last, five dollars, I watch the world, pass me by, and, take, some, solace, in the fact, that, they’re passing me, by, yes, but, they’re not going, anywhere, and, don’t know, where it is, they are/aren’t, going. The yeast, was put into the drug pipe, lit, and hit, on. The divorce was…predictable. Things are going, just fine, in Texas, Tokyo, can just, go away. Ma’am, I think I can hear, you. The oil, acts as a, decoration. I am going to end up, being one of those people, on bikes, with, “trailers,” on them. Are you aware, of alcohol’s, effects, on the brain? Well, it’s a mess, and, as you can see, it’s getting, much, worse. I am deficient, in the arts, of posing, small talk, fecundation, arrhythmia. We’re lied, to, sold a bill of goods, with a whole lot, of riders, attached. The books, are wrong, but, we should read, more, because of this. Life, is too risky, of a proposition, for any of us, to gamble, on, in any way, shape, or, form. There is no temptation, nothing, happens, at all. We are in denial, of our dancing. My hands, are shaking, there are reasons, why, I can’t go into, there. There is no end, to the torture, we will, undergo. Writing, involves, to a great extent, being willing, to look stupid, and, embarrass, oneself. When I went to the department store, I was literally, shocked, at who, I saw, there. How I spent my summer vacation… The super, anything, can, blow me! My mind, is a kind of a, pillow. You know, what you did, and, you, did it. The dull tedium, and excuses… Occasionally, there is a shock, or, surprise.
I've crossed over the line, into, “really crazy,” I don't know, exactly, when, or, how. Too much, risk!? The smell, of musty paper, keeps me, going. It’s a fast acting [*]. Avoid reunions, at all costs. I shouldn’t want, what I want. The cops, don't, "have nothing, on me," now, but they could, find shit, they always, do. This is like an appendage, so, swollen, that it can't be, used. I don’t think, that my problems, are ever going to, end. It is time, for this game, to end. Just, go, forward? By all means, resist. This is a research laboratory. Are we all, just waiting, for the final boom, to occur? The bile, in our stomachs, keeps, us. Such, painful sensations, couldn't be, just, an accident. We are all, constantly, at our, peril. A casualty, will occur, if you can imagine, even imagine, one, on the horizon. If I jump, please, don't try, to catch me. Well, I'm getting there, but, I'm still, way, way, behind. The last lines, we have to fill in, should be, taken, most, seriously. That one morning, that I woke up, in an abandoned, trailer, in a mobile home park, frightened me, in effect, scared me, straight. I, will not, let you, "finger, my ass." Death, is the only philosophical problem, that matters, what's puzzling, about it, is that, it is not a philosophical problem, at all. If you're a, well, a, "perverted," type of, person, you would do well, to avoid, high school, girls, tennis matches, high schools, in general. Every, last, one, of us, is a stupid, fucking, moron! Let the meter, run out! Drag me out, to the bus, I'm not getting on it, on my own. The size, of the letters, are too, big. We are looking at magazines, and imagining, ourselves, in them. Well, I made all the wrong, choices. Can you ever, forgive me, for being the useless, ball of twine, I've, become? Nothing, is ever, going to happen, to me? Fear, horrible, fear, not only, of myself, but, of what I am, and, am not, going to, do. Well, you never can, tell, what's going to happen. I don't give a fig, what color, the collar, is, I just need, a job. The feeling of adrenaline, just, hit me, it's supposed to get me, to run off, in fear, I'm not going, anywhere. When in doubt, severe, doubt, around here, we, bowl. The anniversary, is not going to be celebrated, this year. I can only do, all of the good things, that I want, to do, if I have, money, I have, none, please, send me, some. Reel it, in, a little bit, at a time. We’re going on a snipe hunt. Blossoms, open up. Listen to all, the old songs, again. Swallow the tip, make it, real. Blow out, sixty two, candles, count your heartbeats, not, your breath, feel the bottom, of your ribcage. Look at it, as a, whole (hole). Whoever, stole my hat, would you mind, terribly, returning it? We’ll never be able, to do, what we, want. It's getting late, it's always, getting late. Checking, now, makes a whole lot, more sense, than it, used to. This isn't even, funny, anymore, this is beyond, the danger zone. The democratic system, seems, “good,” now. All I do, is lie, just like, in the old, days. There is nothing funny, about alcohol, or, alcoholism, it leads to total, real, hell. Into the marijuana tent, out, and back in, again. There is no silhouette, in fact, the shades, are drawn, and they will never be risen, again. You threw that heavy thing, down the elevator shaft. The early 70's, do not give them, any thanks. The aromatherapy, didn't work, doc. No, I didn't, cheat, oh, yes, I did! That's all in the past, now, all in the past, and I refuse, to talk about it. The preposterous, options, the pins, in my hip, are sliding out. We used to, really enjoy, playing, “fuck, like the animals,” where, we would, sort of, interact, as animals, would, during real, mating, rituals. Dinner, is never served, until the waiter, hollers, opa! Do you want to know, what it is? The exits, are all, blocked. Fancy, is like twirling, crystalline. The doomed, know no, bounds. Try something new, at the photo shoot. Try, jazz.