094

There are plenty of good songs about chickens, that have already been written. I spent some time in the booths. This is bogus, I never thought it would come to that, but it sure has. The stink won't wash off. When you really need them, the words are never there, it's only later, say, that we find out what we should have said. This place is Egypt meets Saskatchewan, if there ever could be such a place. Yes, I'm stupid, I'm also smart, I don't know which one I'm more of. No one is ever (yes, ever) fine. Things got started immediately, this one was warmed up and good to go, long in advance of our clandestine, uh, meeting. My pseudo acamemic nature, took care of all those “sexy feelings.” It’s another rig, to sell you shit. We get knocked off the high horse, before we even get on, these days. They’ll be angry, I’ll be greasy. Kindly, let go of my tenderness! Fag out, fuck it! We still want attention, that we don’t want. I'm trying out too many old tricks, that don't, and can't, work anymore. This conflict, this powerlessness, is real. Just what we need, another gardening superstore! I'll be out of here soon enough, but please, don't sell the house while I'm gone. Why do you draw pictures of Ghandi? Yeah, all of the sudden, there is a tremendous urge to lash out, and bite the hand that feeds me, and no, I can't explain it. Things are pretty bad. The carpenter ants disappeared, as mysteriously as they arrived. Well, I've started coughing again, that should go on for six months, at least. Stand as tall as Easter Sunday, if it really makes you feel better. Now we'll never get a chance to go to the recycling center. Take your body off, to see if there's another one underneath. This is like violence. Nothing is ever going to come from this, it seems. No one is ever surprised to find out, that I'm a total failure. And this is the garden of shattered dreams, single plot only, we're running a special right now. A clown appeared, in between takes, to entertain the cast and crew. Everyone is allowed, but they're led to believe that's not the case. People seem to be having fun at the convenience store, I can't understand it. How can some of these people even stomach, to sell the crazy goods, that they do? Warning, do not stop in this doorway! You were my X-mas! If my addictions don't kill me, something, or someone else, will. Blow up the water tower, no one likes the way it looks, anyway. Fake tears are coming out of my eyes right now, telling me that I really do care. People are wearing t-shirts devoted to cats, again. Wow, people are sitting and eating day-old taco salad, with plastic forks. Our finest hours are over! Shit, this was really not supposed to happen, what can I do now? By all means, be pissed off! I've been told that California, or New York, are the only places for me to address myself, but I don't believe anything anyone says. This buying binge, has got to stop. Well, here comes another contractor, he doesn't live over at the "spacious, luxurious" apartment complex. No alternatives are allowed. No, I didn't come here for the all you can eat Chinese buffet. It seems like I've over-researched for a project that has never been assigned to me, and has no due-date. They alligned against me. Writing is an outmoded, lost and dead, art form, that I pretentiously tried, to bring back. Shake free from the temptations and lures, that are bound to snag you, knowing that they will ensnare some. The even keel, ain’t even, no more. My lunacy overcame me. Defense, are you a security guard? Not no, but Hell no (to you)! Religion is the biggest scam and sham, the government only takes your money, religion, takes you. These structures can carry up to eight full size trucks, at a time. The spies are out in full force today, it seems. Fired again, oops, I guess I can't put that one on my résumé. What has ended up happening to me, is worse than I could have ever imagined. I guess what bothers me about work, is that I'm only a pawn in their games. Oh yeah, I'm sick all right, but don't worry, it's not contagious. Part of it is that I hate myself so much that certain crucial systems, have shut down, it's just busting out all over, it's gotten really bad. My lungs are gone. It's a jumbled mess, it's insane, hopefully, there's a balance of some kind, but I doubt it. I can't care what anyone thinks. Why does some goofball always have to park next to me? There is nothing to see out the window, close the shades. I just look around the front porch, in a state of panic. To say things are not quite right, is not to say enough. We don't really need to spend this kind of money on frivolous, pointless things, do we? What I've done is cut way down on the things that I need to increase. Some kind of cook walked by, looking totally and absolutely, miserable. There used to be lead everywhere. Why do I keep going, when all signs say to stop? It’s all my fault!
Their hearts were still beating when they threw them into the rusty bucket. Nothing is good enough for anybody, it's way too easy to criticize, and pick things apart. Dream that you put that sweater on. If only humans were designed to stick their noses in their own armpits, now, there's a story to write! This "hot" talk, has to stop, according to the fuzzy criteria that is being employed, everyone is "hot". The tree trunk is sort of an art piece for the yard. I would appear to be dedicated to making doing things the hard way, the easy way, the norm. The shock of a person saying hello, there is precious little going on. Music means nothing. Beware “the fuck up,” who will try to barge into your life, and ask for favors. The knots have been tied, I’m on the plank, there’s the sea, here we go. No one, who makes claims to be interested in film, would pass up a super eight camera that works, found in the trash. Free, clear, and easy, is the only way to be, especially after... I'm not going to be put out, by any of this, at all. People are awed by anyone who actually does anything. I'll cough up to the end, I am going to be proving how well, and often, I can say no. Avoid nudity, anywhere near a dog kennel. Why is it, do you think, that every single best-selling book, is a piece of shit? Fuck you, I quit! There was a metal bucket tied to a tree. The time is now, but in countless ways, for countless things. The home health care nurses, are walking old people up and down the driveways, with oxygen tanks. You could be the pair of shoes, absence, absence. Was it me, up at the Heavy Metal Festival, or was it someone else? The goal right now, is to write well, and it's not happening. We've wasted our lives. We are not going to compromise our lifestyle, for anyone else at all. Will we ever wind up at the hot dog stand again? What I never would have thought I'd become, I have, not in a good way, you see. It's all happening too fast. It's funny how the people who most despise themselves, talk about, think, or write, about themselves, all the time. We have to settle down. Start editing now, jail is waiting for us, patiently waiting, for us to foul up. As usual, people are trying to have fun, but it's all getting mangled. Suddenly, red is too noticeable a color, our results are not being achieved. I feel like I'm currently being tuned in, like a radio. The slide from sharp to dull, may be the hardest to be able to tell. Call me whatever you want. Another chunk of metal was removed. It seems like you could use some lawn care advice. Get into some trouble. It’s a monster story, with no monster. Every one of us, are in one kind of denial, or the other. The unplugged radio, was talking to me. The worst thing, is not really being free. So much temptation, to take things that we can't have. Once is more than enough. The worse things that could have happened, are still going to happen, unless serious changes are made. We play games, and run con jobs, to get what we want. With a compost sticker on the back of my car, I sped off, to the hippo tank. Let this be a fleur de lis. Don’t call me anything, then! The undertaker does not lie. You must have an attention to detail. Nobody helps, nobody will help, or can. Experience isn't working, hard work didn't work, being in trouble didn't, nor did education, saving, frugality, investing... I hate, and want to hurt, myself. We were burned alive, then, drowned. Blow it out your hole, whale-head. Everything will turn out alright, despite any bullshit I spit out. You're not going to go on another obsessive/compulsive rampage, that's for damn sure. I, for one, hope this little game of how broke can one person get, ends soon. No one is going to give you a chance to prove what a truly good worker you are. So what if I'm ugly (so are most of you)? Is that shit on the carpet or some other kind of stain? The lake, as usual, was just the flooded soccer field, at a nearby park. The competition is already so... there is no way you're going to get that prize. How did they ever wind up sewing glass into your hand? I wanted to say something absolutely horrible, about my latest ex-employer, but I will refrain. The rich will get much richer. Being a detached artist, or a scholar who studies what remains, or rather, what we're left with, doesn't pay, never has, and never will. How can we live for the day, when our days suck (so bad)? Please, you are a faggot, please. I dropped off the fruit basket. We may have gone a little too far. She went into the store.
Don't try to "slip me the frankfurter," I've already been fucked, in too many other ways. It's just like old times, way too much time on my hands. When you really want to do something, but are prevented from doing so, a wide range of emotions, may develop. I guess what I'm doing, is rebelling against how average, boring, and ridiculous I am (amongst other things). Many people will never, ever change. Disasters are becoming way more frequent, have you noticed? I've been watching/stalking, the people who have been doing the same thing to me. Sneeze, piss, up, down, doo-da-doo (in the meantime, we suffer). I truly miss the days of having something to do. Back to the buses and cabs, if you touch my money, there is going to be a fight. Let me cum in your swollen box, please. Hurray, for new, fruity scented, detergent. I'll see you in the bread lines, no, I am not joking. The desire to spit constantly, plot and plan various revenges, do a coffee table/this end up exercise, etc. We take the bad with the good, here. The dream of marijuana leaves, "growing over" a syringe, filled with cocaine? All of the latest news will get to you, whether you want to know it, or not. Find your equation! You are going to wake up someday, feeling really, really stupid, as a result of thinking that something was so right, and so correct, at the time. You can't tell me that you're surprised, that such and such a building was blown up, you can have a lot of reactions, sure, but, surprise? Four or five years have passed, just passed, with nothing much else occurring. How dare you deflect those bullets onto me. No one's ever cheered me on, and there have been a few times, it may have helped. We've got to bundle all those sticks that fell out of the tree, I want and need, the evidence back. You are mine now, I can't care about my present job, believe me, I've tried. The newspaper reports the news, not why it happened, or how to prevent it from happening again. What will waiting for five hours, contribute? The last thing I should be thinking about, right now, is moist pussy, but alas. I sure have done a lot of stupid things in my day, never realizing, how stupid they were, at the time (which is even stupider). I live my life wrapped in plastic, inside a box. The only way to be totally happy, is to be absolutely alone/insane. Man, the girl will always leave you, didn't you know that? Look, asshole, we want to buy an old fashioned, push lawn mower (with a motor, yes), we don't want the bells and whistles. The year is one quarter over, which is always the case, when "the year has just begun" (in our eyes). The laws are all against us, and they're getting worse. There is no peace to find, it's constant warfare. For some reason, spaghetti seems like a great idea right now, oh, never mind, there is just a commercial on the radio. To survey what's available, is to see that there is nothing. What you look for, you will see. For those of you who need to hear this, don't put up with any shit from anybody. Those people used to breathe. Use your head, or else. We only believe in things that, "fit in," with what we already believe in. It’s a whole lot of nothing. Feet in socks, too much to handle. We are the dead. The wicked irony, is sobering, indeed. Soon, our lives will be over, and whatever we're currently worried about, or embroiled in, will not have mattered. You can’t stop now. It is all my fault. I can’t even move, without making some huge mistake. My reading doesn't seem to have formed, or transformed me, into anything. Two new outfielders? The tires are going through some rough times. There aren't any serial killers, who say in their childhood's, that that's what they wanted to be, when they grew up, which is very, very scary. What pointless thing are we going to end up doing, today? My real thrills, what makes me happy, is to take out the garbage, take the cans back, get the mail, drive to the store and back, cook a meal, eat it, clean up afterwards. We get trapped into things (that work slightly), we don't make any changes, or decisions, whatever it is, we fall into it. We have no idea, no idea how bad things have gotten, until the shit hits the fan, as it always will. My time is now, as I watch it fizzle. Whistle along with the radon/radar. What am I, really? Skim the skin off the milk.