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My advice to you, is get a divorce, get in your car, and just drive away, call no lawyers, sign no papers. Maybe I'll make a little fire, and put marshmallows in it. Ha-ha, I give you nothing but zinc, and that's my car. Have a nice day. Conversations, already lost, fiddling with papers, as you talk on the phone. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend anybody. Who's breaking into the house, at this hour? Only trust milk in paper cartons? The nervous breakdown, I fell down in the middle of the living room, and laid there, still, for several minutes, this, after dancing like one of Phillipe Pinel's famous mental hospital patients. But I am free, this kind of behavior can be explained, that's why you've locked me in a box. Stop sniffing each other, scribbling colors on a piece of construction paper. Good, or not so good, numbers, will duplicate themselves, naughty numbers. The palms of his hands are bright orange, so many of them cancelled each other out, that the whole thing, was neither here, nor there. Protect your job, scream! Folded and refolded, as if her name disappeared every time you did so. The two liter is imitating entropy. Blow the lid off the conspiracy, circle nothing at all, but highlight everything. Take them back, close the bank account, keep counting, and recounting, everything, fish her in the back, if you're a toy. It's not like it’s weird, or anything, if your a girl, put your finger in. Pretend, like it at first, but we know better, don't we? No identity, no foundation, everything I say, is so true, I shouldn't say it, or, it is an extravagant over-exaggeration, of something so commonplace, that it ceases to mean anything, the minute I've written it down. Wait, my hair is in my eyes, there, that's better. Avoid even the near occasion of food, multiply the rodents, to epidemic proportions. Spit it out or swallow it, put it in a bag for them. The World is like a keyhole, that I don’t want to peek into. The only weird thing, is that he never said anything. This is a sexy wrestling match, designed to remind me, that I’m eight parts reptile. Oh, yeah, he was moving his lips, and making sounds, but none of it was intelligible. Did he want to impress you, or not offend you? That's possible, but what an odd way to do it. Why did she ask to read it in the first place, then? I don't know, maybe he was lonely, and wanted a victim. Ground, teeth, hold onto the handrail. This note is legal tender for all debts, public and private. Frankly, I cannot remember. Shove it in, the plastic penis! Who can really say? No one within six feet, arms tight, stomach guarded, face contorted, staring at people nearby, I wish to hurt them, instead, I hurt myself. Beat me down, repeatedly, to the sidewalk, until I can only lie there. I'm really sick of Zen, meditation, used books, my personality, on the placard underneath the time needle, of the parking meter. Eating quarters, high on drugs. Troubled ass showing, my Meso-American friend, pregnant with another child. Obsessed with the cycle of birth and death, not living, proper? That fuckable neck, wet with pseudo perspiration. Hey, coat hanger superhero, figure this out, intermittent rum and coke, eyes like a tattoo spider, inconsistent thought and behavior. Your ass is dangerously close to my face, and I'm hungry. Ashtray enthusiasm, just another ginty gleep, hidden behind your press pass and eyeglasses, two mouthed Amelda (wasn't she just 13?). She listens, with no music within earshot, my madam eats opossum, I like white, jersey veal. I’m detached, at least, that’s what I like to say. Nobody is truly strange, or weird, anymore, they’ve all died off.