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I don't blame, or hate, anybody, we are supermen now. Memories, the poor house, supposedly. And only in this town, would anyone leave a full forty ounce beer, left unattended, in a parking structure, like that twenty I found, all the times I needed that twenty, but no, I had to find it when there was already a grand in my wallet, and five hundred in the bank. I am able to amass money, only because I don't buy anything. Not money spent, money wasted. Everybody wastes money, maybe I waste less, or more, than most. You know what real waste is, that I was just referring to? That's a semester, not a whole semester, that's four months of just being able to sit in a room, twice a week, four different classes, and just listen to some professor blow wind out of his/her mouth! Fees will go up, charges, surcharges, and so on. Every and anything else, costs extra, a lot extra. Why would anyone want to go? You tell me! What's taken me months to... Hippies look and talk peace, but are often the most violent. Have you noticed this? In fact, those that would be classified as "hard core," are often the most docile, at peace. Must stay calm, must stay calm, I'll kill myself if I don't stay calm! Avoid is a void. Maybe some television would allay these ... maybe people, faces. I need something, but what? What's worth pursuing, and where? Where are these “hidden places,” where people can go and just be? So off into the artistic ether waves, that there’s no turning back now. These four sentence knee jerks, are not what anyone would constitute as anything. Why did you waste so much time compiling this? Well, I think it needed to be said, finally, you were wrong. Water illusions mark spots of near death experiences. Comments all the way to Vine Park. Gravity holds up this arrhythmia. Lock gloves onto Nixie, she goes out tonight! What is all of this shit, leading to? I put the hook in my own goddamn mouth. I invented all of this, to have something to worry about, and obsess over. Enough with the references, enough with the automobile. These new shoes are one size too small. We’ve written just about everything that can be written. Blood all over the windowsill, and bed stand, brains all over the foot of the armor. Every last detail, must be triple checked. Our time is wasted in doing what’s expected of us. The strobe light made me act like a flit. I've done my Vietnam, right here! Love me (I'm worthless). Where's my little Emily Dickinson? The loss of breath, I smell like raw meat, not all the time. Dragged down to our level, we stole your gypsy line dance persuasion. Walk in the back door, three social vampires. I'm a pimp, I'm a God, I'm a whore, you, a translucent gnome. Out of my head, like a fly fishing expedition. Drunk on the playground, nothing here changes. B side, rockin! Bleed through the mouth. Honor guard assemblage? Mom, I'm lonely, take me home. I can't be tough right now; you shit, you. Overdose on carbohydrates, this could be my last day. We'd best get our antes up, and fight. Hand me down suits, thanks for the forethought. Quicksand, hourglass, we’re enraptured, and encapsulated too! And... these are, most definitely, the days of our lives. So intellectually stimulated, this is orgasm! Confusion is a word I avoid. Sewed together, red thread, beads, lace, sackcloth and ashes. A coin from 1943, shocked me back into reality. The girlfriend was a big mistake.
Depression? Oh yes, I've been there and back again, so many times, and with an absence of determination, reasons and evidence, the creativeness of how we get out of it. There's so much to learn, down there in the depths of despair, that we must despair! I never question where the corn, or the spinal column, came from, witty thoughts are laid aside. In the past, I used to rehearse my lines, as if I were about to go into a soap opera audition. That's what college was, a soap opera audition! You never know where your next book is going to come from, or if there's gonna be a next book, I'm inclined to think there won't. It's easy to write about things that frustrate you. The brochure was the problem, everybody's being mislead. The fever is beginning again, I knew going to that place, would mess me up, and depress me for a week, and I was right, right on the mark! Now, I sit and sit, then walk the dog, more food, then sit some more, any more and I’ll crack; food, then sit, then walk, no books, endlessly, ceaselessly. Cloudy fantasy worlds, and then, at night, oh, beautiful night! Turn the radio up just right so that no one will hear... then finally, the grip. Anyone I want, anywhere, no rejection, just the way I want it, and exactly when. Three times, four times, the unused energy, caffeine, never tired, this is it, this is my life! All else is forgotten, when I start to fiddle around with my albatross, nothing is wrong, the absence of any daily events, here I am, and no one can see me! No one knows what I'm doing, or thinking about. If I ever knew her, or met her, I've fucked her, alone. Respond to the coo-coo! I got my award for acting like a peacock on the bus. The restrictions apply, the rights and privileges, have been waived. Goo-goo, coo-coo? Whatever I want(ed), always comes, two Autumns too late. Skipped a page, well, it’s better to be certain, than to wind up like this. I don't blame you, honestly. There aren’t going to be anymore turns of the century. The caramel melted in her ass. You will have a breakdown. Sometimes I do, but that’s just because I feel like such an outsider, and I am an outsider, make no mistake about that. My life, exempted and exemplified, bulk and motion, occupying space, leave him alone, he wants to sit there and annoy her. We lean on, are obsessed by; the pink/grey underground. Hepatitis B: the death of a vampire. Those meaningless words, never strap me down in there, with a strobe light. Split from the scenesters, pound, blue ocean, good-byes. Return, deuce, apologies, lip smacking, in need of some kind of magnesia. I thought the backroom was where he would overdose. Predicting the laugh track, what do you know, "It looks so much brighter in here." It was my shoe squeaking, I'll prove it. Devastated. I'm (help me), I'm… having a seizure. The lights, help; finger screwdriver, opens the med cabinet. Hey, get up against the car, how do they maintain order, what imaginary thing is hidden under the newspaper? Take what they offer you. You’d be shocked at the number of imperfections, in the so called, perfect things. Thrown at me, walking around overpasses, a frotterist, these uncomfortable liaisons. It’s not right to force someone to live their lives this way, for nothing. There is no way in, or out. The people who destroy our lives, usually get away with it.
Crush first, then toss, caterpillars, honked at in Europe, secret key, locked out, they're not natural! Butts taste better up there? Vaccination, dug up zombie, show and tell. Tenacity, kidney lyme disease, scraped from cavernous belly buttons, hers smelled worse. Stars provide all the meaning he will ever need, math, bran, easy on the colon, spliced deoxyribonucleic acid, visual acuity, beyond performance. Unethical thought marks, another line on her face, rig it through, in the sometimes vowel. Laundry was done outdoors, as was toileting, even in the rain. We're all too aware. It’s as if this we’re some kind of circus, there was no book deal. I'm Alexander the Great, reincarnated. I hate the fussing and fighting now, but, I am he. I don't know how it works, but here I am, and I hope I haven't ruined my future plans. There is no way, to deny me, give me presents! But what do they know of the surreal, the absurd? I've begun my patented, behavioral repertoire, of shuffling books around the room, again. It really smells bad in here, it’s dark as a cave, and no even marginally normal, or sane, person, could stand to sit five minutes in here, with the clutter and madness. I gave the finger to a friend who honked as he drove by this morning, I wonder if he knew it was a joke? He used to, but, these changes, no one knows what the hell has become of me, least of all, myself. None of these books, mean a thing, yet I'm disinclined to sell them off, sure, I've read a lot of them, but half of 'em, I've never even opened. What's happening? Why did I buy them, it's not as if… the whole reality interview schtick! Nonsense, all nonsense. Any more pressure to go to graduate school, from anyone, and I'm gonna’ explode! Afterwards, there's six months of reminiscing and regret, followed by years of repetition, desperation, envy and boredom, pointlessness, entropy. No way to alleviate this, it's just the beginning! Nothing comes to mind, it's as if we were in bed together, everything is just, as if, these days. Sometimes, the desperation rages in me, so strongly, that I go straight to the ... Entertainment is accomplished by driving around alone in the car. Repetitive, yet not realized, I don't even remember if I said hello, they call this kind of hatred, jealousy. Looking at the unseen changes, I'd quote you, if I could remember, this is what we want to do. It was, I don't/can't believe it. Face contortions, without any control, take back the time (metaphysically impossible). That book you left out, what does it mean to you? The one I needed most, to round out the catastrophe, I'm so seemingly, out of control, yet, don't believe it yet. What else does it take, to remember the belt buckle? The difference between hard and soft, is imperceivable to me, now. Drunk alone, left to walk home, wave to people met one hour before, never to be seen again. Knee slap uproar, where I used to live; not sleep, already lost on the blue nylon conveyer belt. The series of actions, are, for the most part, useless. I had to try and be you, too embarrassed to discuss it now. Identity none, planet zero, peat moss, uncomfortable forgivings, fungii. I was really just a two handed commodity, swimming in a swamp with all my clothes piled neatly, on a nearby log. This has to happen! Strung out, ever wayward, scared to death of that very thing, exactly; terrified of the terrifying. Over the counter, I can’t cry. Tapping fingers, eyeball dangling/wandering, I was drowned in consciousness (that was the cause of death). I’m getting lessons in aesthetics, from the pitch of the background frequencies. They buy the idea, and don’t pay attention to the words. There were some very strange songs on the tape.