082

If I speak, at all, I tell odd, riddles, with no answer. There is nothing, cuter, than a sparrow, sticking it's head, out of a birdhouse, but, how often, do we see this? Perhaps, what I'm doing, may be a big mistake, the long way, to self-destruction. We'd better hope, that, we're not doing, what we were worried, that we were going to do. There is a real need, to, worry, there is work, to be done, to avoid, doing, or, not doing, the things, that could, possibly, lead to, despair. There was something else, I meant, to say. Don’t count me out, yet, you, son of a bitch. I can’t even, fold, a paper, airplane. Try to fly through, the routine, instead, of dawdling, and diddling, around. Rot out, a cunt, liquefy. There is no future, to speak of, after, age, thirty. Don’t misinterpret, this, it’s all, bullshit. The action, the action, now, there are problems, with, or, in regards, to, breathing. Gun and knife shows, church bazaars, looms, bytes, slams, gropes, fudge, open intoxicants. Is there anything, that we could smash, anything, we could just, smash? Soothe my aches, and pains. The urine, is myself, the pimp, is trying to collect, from me, I hate you, so much, I could kill you, I might, still, kill you (you know, who you are). Keep your columns, straight! Contemplate, what the airline, did. Adjust the levels. Things, are at a standstill. Separate, from the floaties. More sitting, changing position, sitting, some more. Hoot, and holler, at the snatch. Do not, ever, spend, any money, ever. Well, we could go down there, sit around, but, we could do the same thing, here. The chemicals, are so, damn, hard, to resist. It's easy, it's too, easy, but, it, also, isn't. My mind, is a torpedo, being readied, to fire. We are not your allies, or, benefactors. People, seem to want to hang around, more, these days, long after the mass, is over. Let go of me, now! You owe me, for years of abuse, and I'm here, to collect. There must be some mistake, I never meant, to involve you, in all this. Give me back my insulin, motherfucker. The carrot's, were lowered into... there was nothing funny, about it. Flatter, the steamed, pigeons. The smell of soap, has faded, or, evaporated, away. Don't make me wear the dress, again. Doubt, creeps into, the medulla oblongata, all, is lost. The ginty, hid the keys, and, then, couldn't remember, where. This age, or, epoch, we live in, currently, will be seen, in five generations, to be the most pointless one, there ever, was. Genetic manipulation, is far too, expensive. Please, stop, aimlessly, storming, from one end, of the house, to the other. The penis, went inside, the vagina, the thrills, are so, short lived. "Talent," is nothing, but, hard work. The hypnotist, exploded, and his secrets, were revealed. Just, let me land, on top of it, just, that, nothing, more! We rode, we rode, whatever that, meant. Who should we, ask for? People barged into the house, and demanded, our canned goods. I believe, that this numbness, in my hands, is no accident, that there is a reason, for it. The fans, were crowding out, around, the (blow me/arrow) dumpster, they sat, in hopes, in hopes. Another holiday, time to act, festive, and look like, you give a shit. I grow so sick, and tired, of avoiding, those three ring binder, holes. I can't breathe. If you're stupid, if you have, "the disease," stop! Too much tinkling, of urine, in the bowl, leads to thoughts, about it, dreams, about it. Life goes on, or, does it? I can tell, that, from this point, forward, things are going to happen, to you, volatile, and feathery, things (and, more). "Talk to me," they scream, but there is nothing to say. Beware, people, in camouflage clothing. It seems, they think, that they're something, they're, not. Put down that weapon, I didn't do it. You can't hold, or, cling, onto anything, not only, "shouldn't," you, you really, can't, it's not possible, not for very long. The judge, said that I was disturbing the peace, in my own home, this is unacceptable, to me. The curb, was a hiding place. What is this, filthy, "fuck her tits," kind of talk? Feces, contains, toxins, no hysteria, no hysteria. There isn't anything to do, the candied yams, were canned. Where is my collar, and leash, maybe, it, was, a flying saucer? To get so high, that you can't even, believe it, and then, to run into a police car, doesn't make for a pleasant, evening. Neglect, neglect, building three, apartment, sixty-two, now, the thumbs, are opposable, the smell of leather, is spray-on. Please, spare us, your spiritual, bullshit, song, and dance, routine. It’s all, bravado (try me). Just, take this government, out, and, put a new one, in. Cold, clammy, sweat, to smear, off.
The AM radio became some super sound system. No, I'm not a telemarketer! The smell of many cigarettes, just hit me all at once, make it stop! There are no tomorrow's. It's a whole different world now, they are trying to cover up the shitty job they did earlier, by building fabulous, beautiful sidewalks, now. We don't understand what has happened to our lives. Shit, this is nowhere near where is needs to be, and I'm late, it's tired. My life is over, yours is just beginning. In another era, is this a live broadcast? I said the drugs were planted, those were not my drugs. You are going to know the inside of a jail, if you continue to do the things that you have done, up to this point. Limited sight distance, lane ends, merge left. We will not tolerate any of that "lover talk," here. The beauty of hate, is that it keeps you energized and prepared, sort of "on guard," at all times. Maybe I'm mentally ill, yet my mind feels like a golden bough. Your very ass, feels like vinyl, to me. It's not going to work, I can just tell. The bills have been paid, there is no money left, please, stop calling me. The urine ran down my leg and puddled up in my shoe. It’s gotten pretty bad, I can’t let myself, believe it. I can't even explain what it is that went wrong, anymore. Adrienne Ziegleman, give me back what you took from me. They told me that I must behave in the department store. There is a life, we’ve got to try to live it. See how happy he is? Oh, this is quite wonderful, like a yellow raincoat. You'd know the killer look, if you squint, you know, coming down the off ramp, etc. Testicular cancer, colon cancer, curious, benign and malignant polyps, these are the things I worry about now, not dying, per se. The country, the extent of it, is baffling. I am not your alcoholic mascot, look, that was a phase. There is no way that I will take any credit in writing this, I demand my anonymity, and seclusion. I am now as high as a post! You took up all of my time and handed me back a pittance for it, in bi-weekly increments. The more disjointed and muddled things get, the more some outcasts, thrive. The police can wait, we are not going all the way down there. If all of the current big shots, were to go away, the vacuum would kick into gear, and soon there would be a whole new group of fabulous big shots. Must stop writing, must begin long, drawn-out process of rewriting, editing… and re-editing. The entire social order and network, that we've set in place, could have very well, and probably should be, a different one. The hymns we sang had to do with dandruff and lice. I am whatever I want to be, whenever I want to be it, and your opinion. The new food you eat, pushes the old shit out. Please ignore my sexual advances towards you. I had a dream that I got on a plane. We are never going to be able to get away with the shit we pull. The profanity is sure to offend many nice, clean people, fuck them! Get ready for "fall down the stairs time” at home. Wait, a cut-up body just fell smoothly, out of the sky. There is no fear of death, anymore, for a long time, there was, but now, I can say that I am definitely, fully, ready. After they found out about the scandal, they made me give back my Good Guy Award. Too many direct rip-off's. Do not put off, for a second, what must be done now. The impression that I did of Picasso, was immediately recognized. There is very little possibility of my ever making any significant money. Slice right through the symbolic resistance. It’s never gonna’ happen. She liked color, I didn’t.