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People will read, or die, reading does not include, "computer, movie star, chit chat, and gossip, 'rooms'." My secret, is that I cannot read, write, or understand, words, at all (use this against me). I contend that I couldn't hit bottom any lower, than I am right now, so, bring on the next thing. We ejaculate into the void, contraception, or not. Insecurity kills, like not biting the head off of the bunny. A discussion commenced, about penis size. That's it, I imagined they'd say. The writer goes hungry. A man with absolutely nothing to do, is a dangerous man, count on it. Master the slave, inside yourself. The swelling, pain, ache, discomfort, will continue, get worse, kill you. The cookies are too delicious to eat. Our obsessions are us, are the only part of us, that can be known, not controlled, of course. We have no joy. Some hours blink us, by them. What was it that you planned on those people in the booth behind you, to talk about? We're all aimless, I guess, I just think I'm more so. We are quickly losing control. Always wondering, what's wrong with me, thinking, am I crazy? Don't buy into the system at all, but especially, their notices of what you should be doing, with your one and only life. The air, isn't. We work ourselves to death, it's a sign of "being a man". Out of nowhere, Earl Grey, walked into the room. Would you mind wiping the ketchup off of your fingers? I’m beginning to understand this, despite the fact, that it’s too late now. The auditions didn't go well. Finish one book, begin another, to barely eke out any kind of existence. You’d think that by now, I wouldn’t keep making the same mistakes. I'm not stupid, I've just misplaced my intelligence, somehow. I haven't gotten any better as a writer, over the years, I've gotten worse. The warm, generous, loving humanity, does not exist. Our lives are destroyed, while we aren't looking. A whole movie can be written, produced, and starred in, by a thinker, on a pleasant afternoon (useless). We just pay better attention, nothing really changes. There couldn't be anyone more sick of thinking, than myself, I've just done it too much, and gotten way too little, out of it. As far as needs go, we don't have many. It's not the wandering around the house, eating constantly and incessantly, smoking cigarettes, that bothers me, it's not really being bothered, by anything. Right when we think everything is ducky, we find ourselves in rehab, or jail, again. It takes a lot or nerve, to walk up to someone, and speak to them, somehow. Are you a lazy, butter sandwich eating, maniac? To put it all on the line, only to discover, that there's nothing there, can be disheartening, disconcerting. Some failures are big enough, to end a person. Take a picture of paradox, to hang up on your wall. It's going to be just one more life, spent doing something they didn't want to do, for me, isn't it? The relationships most people have with their own faces, are complicated. The dumpster made a new friend. Faking our moods, more in the positive direction, than the other way. I just repeat myself, and play tapes inside my own head, that should have been thrown out the car window, years ago. The sky does nothing, but mumble. Shame will toss you off to the left. There is no next Friday, the curtain is always up, I'm growing tired of soiling, and shitting, my own pants. The grocery store reminds me of Cannes, on any given Summer weekend. At present, I’m broke, this book, was supposed to change all that. We know we’re in a danger zone. Most of us, are doomed, before we even begin. Fame will get you laid. Of course, you’ve got to focus. Toilet scrubbers, are better than most people, but they might not know it, totally, yet. We don’t yet, know the protocol. Self hatred has been internalized. We only seem to forget the most important shit. I am going to do the impossible. When we follow the rules, we're not rewarded, when we break them, we're busted. What exactly, was I yelling at myself, to do? The taken care of, make more money, than their caretakers. Stand fast, get dizzy, sit back down again. Perhaps I could be towed off and junked, instead of the car. There isn't any disco ball, light refraction, for us. The smell of burning meat, coming off of your own body... History reminds us, that it doesn't matter what we do. After thirty, is shittier than what comes before. I can say right now, with certainty, that I am not going to be able, for very much longer. Sex in a back room, somewhere, just doesn't provide the same kick, as it used to, nothing does. Most of us, aren’t all that worried about, what we’re worried about. I knew her back in Nova Scotia. Tulip petals made for a dignified suffering. This is, indeed, it (sorry).
Even if you pay your dues, you don't automatically get invited to the year end, chicken dinner. The thin sheets of ice we used, to oh, so carefully, slowly, step across. The World is still a very large place. Abracadabra - the black splotches, can be interpreted. I got typecast very early on, in my career, unfortunately. We're dangling our stuff in enough people's faces, that we can rest assured, nobodys going to take the bait. It might... Bet you didn't count on that woman, reading your mind, on the turnpike? Could it be, poor nutrition, is to blame, for my maladies? Catch some crazy disease. Tonight, we will have sex with ourselves (again). The ceiling of your room is not a movie screen. And guess who should pop out from behind the teepee flap, but, Meghan! Six tear evenings, bye-bye pantyhose? Death is a minor event, of monumental consequence. I never meant to cause a riot at the supercross, I cannot be trusted. Such minor, inconsequential investments (in ourselves). We've decided, we want to be gymnasts. I would cheat on you. Hog face, with two sticks coming down, or out, rather. My impotence is acting up again... The sidewalk, zig-zags, still. I am so sick of recyclable plastic bottles, I must have dropped thousands of dollars in quarters, into the strip-o-booths. Everything is everything, nothing, and several things, in-between. As if it meant something, the picture hangs in the window. The inane, are all too often, sadistic. Nothing controls you, but you. The absolute horror, of death. The evidence, is overwhelmingly, against me. All of our parents, grandparents, children and pets… everyone has to die. What do you mean, we're gay, and won't admit it yet? We looked through the swollen kind of dance, that neither began, nor ended. The reunion... Hell, depression, one and the same? Somebody must have thrown out the army uniform. I wanted too much. Put some medicated cream on it. Some new kind of taco, has just come out on the market. Is it our goal, to mop? God grabs your balls, if you can't do it yourself? This is not Haiku, stop counting syllables, please. Fuck through the dream catcher, as if it were a cock ring. My pharmacist warned me, of the effects of estrogen. Japanese tea ceremony, acts as liposuction would, on my buttocks. If you don't write it down, it doesn't exist. The doorstep hasn't been fixed yet, I guess it's been a few years, now. I prefer to dance alone, but thanks. Some kind of mute ingenue, I ain't. Stop vomiting your dinner, I don't mean more than half of what I bother saying. We're all a little bit autistic, I mean, artistic. I've been a pariah, I can only imagine, what I'll become next. We're lazy, and we're not, this is a complicated thing. There is no pain relief possible, for what ails the majority, of us folks. Quite a row, I had with myself, and I have two black eyes to prove it. How much are you willing to pay, for sex? We're too skeptical, so much so, that we wind up, devout. Welcome to the Boondocks, kids. What happens next? Pass the goddamn puck, someone yelled from the stands. What have I done to deserve this? Fifty years of nothing, I guess I'm a laundry room attendant, I don't really see myself that way though. I want my dead loved one's, back. It takes such a long time, that nobody in their right mind, would agree to do it. I am probably, just plain wrong. Octopus sexiness, in the tree house. What was it, vicious kiss? Some punishments, have delayed reactions. I will soon start forcing things to go my way. By the time we're ready to act, it's too late. I soiled the panties, and tore them. They are angling for me. Shout out, suffrage now. Can you see what I mean? You, asshole, get up on that ladder, clear your neighbor’s gutters. I feel so helpless and powerless right now, that I can’t do anything, I can’t even refill my prescription to the pills that could keep me from feeling this way. We discover that our lives, are not oldies songs. Never allow swollen, smelly feet, to impede your progress. The shame of being fat in our youths, haunts us, even when thin. Did she have to stock the bookshelves half naked, while I was browsing? We're interested in what's impossible. Magic favorite, Mahi-Mahi, the triplicate birch tree, is single now. We only want to live worthwhile, honest, lives. Cut up the ham, spin/show the ham, glaze the ham, serve the ham. I want to cry, but have nothing to cry about. Love what you sniff, sequence the black voodoo. Accept the unacceptable, you'll be better off. The old are getting younger? The delays that aren't our fault, bother us, way more than those, that are. I want to apologize, to my middle school teacher. Some infuriating games commence, the future looks pale. I toured the facility, learned what happens to shit, when we flush it. Save on diamonds, watches, gold? One day, my roommate and I, pretended we were Jewish, nothing was any different. Smell your pants, before putting them onto your body. We’re not going to be able to stay awake. Kitty is frisky, for the New Moon. Koob, is book, backwards, I oughta know. And now, we are dedicated to our crafts, and lives, money-making, and saving ability. Sex… now! I got in a little bit of trouble, here and there.