105

Envision a better garden, some kind of healthy situation. Have the discipline to stare at the wall, for hours. I just want, and only want, what I can't have. The pickled eggs, standing too close to the speaker, singing heavy metal songs, without actually knowing any of the words. Death is coming to get me, slim. No trick I've tried to pull, has ever worked, but, do what you want. I'm more than a loser, worse off than a loser, I'm nothing. All I think are moronic, retarded thoughts. Are the things that are stopping us, even real? Screw your heads off. I have let everyone who ever cared about me, down. We eat things like pizza, and drink beverages. Put me in the mental hospital, again. When you can't tell male apart form female, it's time to reassess your sexual preferences. The reason that I want to, is only because I want to, so much, but can't, for some reason(s), I can't even do that. Everyone is pretending to be a vampire, again this year. Lately, I can't stop crying. When we laugh, we should be crying. When I became scum, I thought it would be a temporary thing, that I'd work my way back out of it someday, instead, everything got worse. This has nothing to do with the secret life of glycerine. We go places we don't belong, to try to belong, where we can't. We act out, so as to fool ourselves, and others, that we actually have personalities. Even right at this moment, people are trying to regain partial use of their limbs. As far as my take on life goes, I had my chance, and I blew it, too many times now, to get another chance. At least I was sober, for once, but that's not enough. Shake your little pool ball, and ask it a question. I'm nobody, less than that, but still, on some level, I believe myself to be from some wayward, privileged class, or some such shit. I am developmentally disabled, if you prefer. My ideas are all boring. Sex is an absolute waste of time, effort, energy, etc., never mind any previous ranting and raving I may, or may not, have engaged in. It gets quickly to the point where nothing is amusing, or entertaining, any longer. I don't have friends, and don't deserve any, I'm not a good friend at all, worse than fair weather, I'm an asshole. A life that worries you, is a disappointing venture. Most of the things that appear to be happening, aren't, couldn't be. I'm not "deep," or "philosophical," anymore, I'm the worst kind of wannabe? The white boys left their broken down car, in the middle of the road. There is nothing to do except to stir nothingness, get ourselves into trouble again; just to be able to say we did something. There probably aren't going to be any dinners in my honor, anytime soon. If I had a gun right now? Not knowing where you are, or where to turn, is the only "destination" I know. Nothing is in any way, interesting, of course, this, coming from the most dull. It’s a thing, now, like Chicago. Forget what you’ve written, before. There isn't an original thought in my head, I could rattle off facts and figures, from such and such a source, but why would I want to do that, and who would want to listen? Is it any wonder, really, that someone could be so one way, and act yet another?
The interstate is only used for this one, by me, anyway. The only way that I'm ever up early is if I don't sleep at all. Show off your invitation, for us. You don’t need a better half, or another part, of any kind. Give in to temptation, once in a while, buy the sewing book. What happened, didn’t. There is nothing more exciting in the world, than a house full of cleaning products. The way I've got things set up, within a short amount of time, even she won't be able to stand my face. I decided to become a woman. Show much remorse. There were dozens of great ideas, of course, long forgotten, by the time it comes time to write them down. Attack them, before they attack you. All I'm even able to write about anymore, is the passionate drive that I have. I wish that I could fake it, take it, something. Tadpoles evolve, and show diversity, through the stages they go through, as well as in the end results, that are achieved. Today, we're gay, tomorrow, straight. The only thing I enjoy is taking a piss without bleeding. Mainly, I've found that I'm not good enough, then, our health starts to fail. There really haven't been any good times, now that I think back. To never live in a gated community, is one of many rules. I don't know what that smell is, but it is really nasty. I've made too many errors and mistakes, to redeem myself. I deserved the vicious attack, and then some. The people on stage were more real, and human, than anybody in the audience. So distant, cold, miserable, awful, weak, I can't fake/take it anymore. The steel door has been pulled down on me, it's all over. Well, the gymnastics teams have wrapped up their seasons, nothing to watch anymore. The bottom line, is that I don't want to, don't have to, I won't... We sit, and do precious little else. Act brave! I'm too much of a sissy fist, or whatever, alone. The goal-less, get stuck in the subplots of, "that would never work, because..." No matter where I go, or what I do, I'm an outsider (this is not, "cool"). I can't take it anymore. Apparently, there was some show on, there's always some show on. Nothing can redeem me now. The accordion is broken, sorry. All things are stupid and boring, I'd tell you to choose wisely, if a wise choice, could be made, of the options we're given. So far, this writing business, hasn’t worked too well, as a tool, or a therapy (not that I can even lay claim to being a writer). Self sabotage, sure works! Well, I got the title in the mail, I don't find other people to be boring, but I know that I bore them, and they’re being bored (by me), could make me think they're boring, but it doesn't. No matter what I do, it makes me into more of a loser. The sweater hit the rafters, down. This is more than good-bye, this time. Death just seems to be better than life, somehow, and believe me, when I tell you, I'm not imagining anything beyond, in either "direction," I feel nothing. Let them sit there and rub each other's penises. How can there possibly be a tomorrow, after all the self lacerating, annihilating things, I write? All I can do these days, is sleep, I need to rent six porno's, to help me wash out these feelings. The way I live my life, is to not live it, this should be abundantly clear, by now. The jokes aren't funny. There is nothing worse than the shame. The worst part of all of this, is not even knowing what's wrong with me, but thinking/knowing, that something is, nonetheless. Was it just a dream, or did we really do those things? Greed is what allows the successful people, to keep being successful, not some esoteric skill, or appeal, they either have, or stumble across. There are no surprises, none, it is as if I write everything that happens, beforehand. We’re free, but have no control whatsoever, of that freedom. The milk washed my old boots. Beware the inevitable, wail away.
You see some funny kind of love, some giggling, and laughter. There is no way I'm going to stop, but I sure can see, it's time to change. I write so as to have an excuse, it works quite well, I can always tell people, that I'm writing this "book". Life is no cake walk, I might as well throw it all in there. Left handed dancing, it's not the same, left handed dancing, it's not the same. Nothing is true or false, and everything is both. Be a teapot, things get really mixed up, cloudy, stormy, messy, worse. Let's try something a new way. There is no such thing as free time, and soon, there will be less of it. She looked like an owl. Turn the thing on. Oh, it’s a masterpiece, no doubt. Most things are a little bit dull. They eat your food. I remember bleeding on your back porch, after that, everything went a little bit blurry, fuzzy. You want to talk about dead animals, with guts coming out of their assholes? I already fucked her (all of them). I don’t care, about the mistakes that I make, anymore. The middle ground, is more treacherous, than either extreme. Yeah, I’ll bet you, “would’ve.” It’s the extent of the fuck up’s. I’m secretly, very friendly, cheerful. Ah, the railroad yards. It could very well be, that I'm not very intelligent, and I'm not really thinking. The sad thing, is that there is so much at stake, and so little seems able to be done about it. The true test of a person's character, is how they face, all the quite obvious challenges, which assault them. Every single person has been lied to, but they don't seem to mind. I don't think that my life, or what I do, or who I am, is particularly normal. The generalist can't get close enough! What a difference a day makes, sometimes. A crowded house, full of loving people, can be a very lonely place, indeed. There can't be hate, without love, love, without hate, cultivate results! I've become a person for whom, everything that need occur, is resigned to occur, "later". Every book I own, makes me sick to my stomach, they created me. Crucial evidence has been covered up, it always is. Both sides of everything, are true and false. Being fragile, is a death bell, Anell… I'd better face facts, I am a litterer. Everyone blames everyone else, for everything. The world, could quite easily, do without, a great many things. All dead people who did something, have a society? It does no one any good, to have a good grasp, of the traps and problems in the world. I wrote it to achieve a fame, that I do not want, would not accept. Our educations are all incomplete, complexities are never brought in, let's go and start a foundation. The lamb hid in a sheepskin. Set up the easel. Imagine, but only if it's constructive. I gave away everything, for nothing. Justice is just another word to look up in the dictionary. It’s rich, or poor, no in-between. Someone must reveal the lies I tell myself, to me, before it all gets out of hand. As far as I'm concerned, the depression has got to lift. We only seem to argue, as a game, only experimenting around the daisies, considering the inconceivable, doubt, assert, debate, dialogue, pointlessly, forever. There aren't any door prizes at the local asylum. This information is considered top secret, and classified. Please stop talking about how the coffee grinder became a sort of musical instrument. Ideas get sparked, at strange and unusual times, I've become a high-pitched, screamer! I think the exact quote was, flutterbyes, buttering past. Most of us don't have security clearance to know most information. We end things off, right where they began. I stole your panties off your clothesline, and wore them, every day for a month. Wish your way to a cold, cold grave. Don't even bother looking through the help wanted ads. There is no time to be immobile, beware becoming degenerate. Nothing happens quite the right way. Randomly assign yourself to control groups. The secret keepers, keep on succeeding, the creators, keep creating, the prodigy's, grow up, no one talks about them quite the same, after that. The noble, becomes something else. It is difficult, if not impossible, to judge, to even know, what the hell it is you're doing. Killing time, taking up space, messing around, faking, shitting. Everyone at the club without a door, looked like Aleister Push. Something has got to happen soon, it's been too long, way too long. All we wanted was ice cream, nothing was open. Why should I be trusted? I'm a mentally ill circus performer, too cowardly to perform anymore. I know not how, to behave. The dirt was piled in the wrong spot.