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There have been many things I have neglected to keep in mind, or have forgotten, altogether. I am not Plato, for one; for another, there is no lack of words in the world. It's funny how quiet everybody becomes, eventually. You were probably too busy bopping/boffing the webworld, on your computer, to notice that the calypso dancers are monitoring you. What else is there, is there anything else? College will make you well-rounded, isn't that what they used to tell us? The secret's out, I can't remember which sodium was which salt, and I don't give a fuck, either. As for “jazz posturings,” these I remember, quite well. Why was the back door open, what were they looking for, when they strapped me down like they did that time? Dead, I hear that over and over again, I've got my black arm band, and I'm still tapping my left foot, waiting for the funeral. Need I really explain things so clearly, what's wrong with confusion? I'm still thinking, more than anything else that I do, even laundry, and basic personal hygiene, get in the way of my Dixie Highway wanderings. If there's anything that I've discovered over the years, it's that nobody needs others. Don't buffalo me, I'm aware of the blackboard dangers, green. I'm spitting and licking at the back of manila/vanilla envelopes, and two buttons on the cuffs of the shirt. The hashish sleigh run, five dollars, and a thousand beatniks, can't be wrong. Tired now, fading, over easy, broken yolk. I have stripped open all of my faults for you, I told Didi that it was all in her head. She's a pharmaceutical researcher now, she's unemployed, did I mention that? It's only a spider, I've dressed up in women's clothes, yes, but why does that automatically classify me in such-and¬-such minority group? I was so elated, that I broke every window, or other glass item, in the house. The torment will continue, as will the maniacal laughter of lunatics. We've got our doubts, but most people keep them to themselves. The paranoia made me numb, this slinky, sexy thing, never was. Will to power, seemed much more clear in theory, than in practice. We’ve got problems that remain unaddressed, unknown. We don’t know who, or what, we are, none of us, know what to do anymore. The big mistakes we made, only to cover them up, and walk away, as if nothing happened. Low lights, high life, yeah, no, maybe. Loneliness gets you, and doesn’t leave, just because you tell it to. I did like her, but the handkerchief hadn't left the hand yet. There is no such thing as a (I apologized, in advance) soul saving mission, for the already gone. I don't know why I wear a hat, maybe it's to keep the hair out of my eyes while I write. No one's around, what a view of emptiness! Jupiter was more fun, I even bought a filter. Please don't make fun of me now, I'm hemorrhaging! Where are you hiding? Was it douche, or Dutch? No, really, I just didn't hear you, wait, come back! Math, numbers; so we’d know exactly where we were going. My creation has holes in it, I preferred to work with ink. She wasn't impressed, one way or the other. Leave that tongue and cheek bit, in! People come and go, for your own good, get to know the only constant, no matter how difficult it is, sometimes. Whatever the cost, it must be done. There is no such thing as money. Peter of the Palisades, would never have said that life was anything but, difficult. Tri -manifold byproducts, clicking, clucking, moaning, screaming. Be jolly (what?). Like pissing in high school, insecure. I tried and failed, end of story. Who can say what now, even is? We’ve all got enough time, to do some crazy things.