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More hot water than cold, is the combination we can all agree with. People lined up outside my windows, I wished they would all go away. Can't you see how rude you're being? She dangles in it, useless arms. Fuck the government, any way you can, they'll be there when you, bend over. The Mafia could pick up a few tips from those larger than life, fellows. Let's take a long look, at our true options, it appears as if, there truly are, none. What can we do? This dream is dead, that's certain. Look at the reality of what’s become here. Everything must start, and happen, at once. I do not believe that there is any such thing, as satisfaction. They claim not to want any help. You can't just take off, you are trapped, and must stay forever, exactly where you are. If only I could produce something crucial, for all of us. Look at the difficulties involved, if you just had the fancy to leave the city, much less the whole cult of pseudo-Americana. In this day and age, you have to work! Things are far too expensive, to even think about, taking a couple months off, to assess where you are in life, to just think. The reality of our times... have you ever really considered suicide/sunshine? It beckons us, calls us, dares us! There is nothing to live for? You cannot be a hermit, you cannot be a nihilist, there really is, nothing you can do, to change. I don't know who "they," are, or even if "they," exist, but they are there, just the same, maybe "they," are just in our heads, that infernal critic, that keeps us in bed, keeps us on schedule, keeps us guilty, and hopeless. Drugs? Pay me, now. Sure, do them to your hearts content, but realize this, everything "they," say about them, are true. They are an escape, but look at what the hell there is all around us, and then see how there must be, an escape! If the escape you choose, is drugs, fine. If everybody does what’s "immoral," or "illegal," it will cease to be so. Shit, I don't mean any of this, don't do drugs, seriously, things are fucked up enough, as it is! These are not my shoes. He'll never go out in public again. It’s pointless. Reinstating the obvious. They'll never find him. To be allergic to bee stings, or, is it just the shock of being attacked? I can't remember what I'd wanted to write, see, the door can only remain open, for so long, before it has to close. This is what got me hooked on them, in the first place. The (we shuffle) laundromat town, the last quarter suburb. The gift of placing nomenclature together. Mysterious bruises, mark the (mar the) landscape. For the very last time, I want to write about his pock-marked face, but, I don't think I can do it any justice. I'm just standing here, trying to avoid my world falling in, on top of me. I have up-to-date trial coverage, you know, I know what’s going on. My whole head, is like a discotheque. Douche me good, with ham, party, like I used to? We could think, but my head won't get involved. What are you talking about? Pull up your pants, and get out of here. This is hilarious, can't you see? Don't pull them down, dammit, pull up your pants. I laugh in the face of literature, and poetry, everywhere, I am making a mockery of the whole kit and shebang, and then. No, you mustn't. Are you serious? I don't know, my head is liquid, right now. The lunch box kids, were cooler than me, Mr. brown bag, eating paper, as if it were butter. I've got problems, loon me, square the anything, twice. Moose are being attacked, by asshole college students. He doesn't like sitting in one position all day, and who can blame him? Try to be more like a symphony, nothing is o.n. I've got it, all night Europe, train derailments, Homo Sapiens, these teeth that I possess, your sore throat, pump hole, lover, I'm spread out on the kitchen table, ready for carving. The rain, it came down. Feel the difficulty (try violence). I am your radio, used. After turkey, submit to treatment. Linger on (for no good reason). Man, this isn’t going to change anything.
Laying low, something has got to be done about this. The back of my car, has endured one slam too many. Make a fool of yourself on the highway. Look out, forceps, all of the sudden, an opinion. They entertain themselves, by hitting their own faces, and yanking on their own pant legs. The powerful, are applauded, and feared. Ontology, was the most interesting thing we studied. I have written a 900 page book, and it better have 900 pages, when it comes out. Crossed pathology, can't quite get anyone, anywhere near, Betty-Lou, or minus signs. Sleep, wind the shifter, stop kissing porn stars, who do you think you are? Nowhere in the world, do such things occur. I never stopped missing them, yet, we all must go on. Why? No reason. I'll give you five hundred dollars, to play country music, well, yee-haw, please, erase that, no, let it stand, as a testament to the authors dissatisfaction! Watching sexy movies, naked, and eating cheese, from a tube. Those things don't need to be underlined. It’s a blowout, or a cloud of smoke. Wank off, you! Telling it to the floor, tied up in the bed rails. The semantics disrupted the assembly. I’ve started urinating in my pants, to save water. There will come a time, damn you, you will see. I just realized, there's only eight hours, until I've got to be back. Butter her up, then, butter her down, again. How much more can I take? Yes, I do hear voices. The wallpaper, only seemed atrocious. The only thing to offer, is confusion! We all want a satisfying, sex object. I’m warning you, but, weakly. Walking, and cracking knuckles, the only things worth doing. What to do with our lives? What the... you're fine. Screaming, and screaming, and screaming, and screaming! Not especially attractive, the 1990’s, burned away. Spaced out girl, throwing her head around, like it was a dead, wet, spineless fish, and drooling down the front of her shirt, it's just bizarre, that's all, though, there is something a little disgusting, about all of this. One, or two, I don't know, I'm scared to count. A phony? You jerk, I'll take you on, with fists. You sound seventy years old, and fading fast. No one goes out at night, nobody does stupid things like that. Headphones on, to drown out my own thought processes. You do? You do what, what are you saying? Patience, patience, I will explain everything, in time. But, even then, no one will agree. So, this is how you treat your friends, sleeping in a parking lot? I refuse to be "writers blocked," anymore. Work is secondary, it only gives me money. This is important, I cried out of both of my eyes. What kept me alive this morning? I existed on a fragile eggshell, of half-formed ideas, and anomalous protoplasm. Sleep seems to help, why count sheep? Because I'm filthy, and on drugs? Here's a blood test, to quell your curiosity. Ugly nymphs and gnomes, do I actually use brain space, worrying about this? Chapter four will be entitled, Things To Say During Coitus. I know it's a difficult, touchy issue, knowing what to say, can be excruciating. She screamed into my ear, beforehand, ''Do you have insurance?'' Sand/gravel perfection, squeeze skeletons, gently, crash, and kerplunk, rub butter, just, let’s give each other a quick shine. Two geese, entwined. "Did you study your phonics this mornin?" The smell of that river, I'm never going back there again. Things soon cease, to startle, or surprise. We like you, but enthusiasm is threatening, to the general public. I’m pale, again. Everyone’s on prescription medication, because they can't handle, what they can't handle. I guess I give people a longer time, and get to know them better, before I make judgements, but in the end, I always seem to take yours, anyway. Maybe, so you'll think I agree with you, or that what you said is true, I'm a coward for it. Someone smiles in the background, don't let her fool you. I was, they were, we were around each other, a lot. I have one picture, with camera red eye, face contorted, hidden behind a guys head, and a ham. His girlfriend was there that night, and it really wasn't a party. The attraction of every circus? That house, mine for a year, as long as I paid. The security deposit nightmare, who really cared? Francis is making strange noises, again. Douche, do it again, don’t go on. I can't sustain my moods, I can't control anything. Right when we thought we were finally safe, what happens? More lawsuits. Ungh, Satan, get behind me, the slow, brown, burn, roll, even, I need it now! Let's do the dead deer hump! I'm a flaming intellectual, at finger pod time! Lick what goes over the toilet bowl, sassy. But slow, I've been eating a lot of peanut butter, lately. Clean this up in the revision phase. Embarrassed, embarrassed, your face is all red! Embarrassed, embarrassed, my face is all red! Faux pas, kitchen nightmare, that leaking pen! Staring into neo-sunshine, back to the bag! Both sides and halves, go around, and about. Why doesn't the wind like me? I enjoy billboards, they just tell us where everything is. Pop cap contemplation? My future enemies, are soon to come forward? Big day patience, leaves us forgotten. As our (and, like our) tans fade, other things do, as well. This is pure insanity, no other way to describe it. I saw the sunrise, and sunset. I only use legal drugs, but in lethal quantities. I don't have any dried up flowers. Time and place, do not matter, days of the week, months of the year, just give you a sense of things being over with, or that they're coming up. The latrine hole was full of asphixiating horses, and into it, I fell. Take the feces out of the toilet, place it neatly on wax paper, measure it with a ruler, document the character of it: large, runny, soft, etc. If it’s worth eight dollars, why is it still on the shelf? Don’t make me do what I cannot. How could we forget the sound of the grain elevators?
Static is a ten volt shock of electricity, when you're four, or five, years old, and still wearing pajamas in the living room, near the rocking chair. Is he drunk again? They leave like, forty feet, on the sides of the rail lines, in case of derailment. The fences, the oil tank, pissing in the trucks, pretending to drive. Rathco owns this trolley town (Wrath Co.) now! They are eating all the food, again. A videotape of bulldozers, pushing dirt around? I went crazy with the game shows. We’re determined, by chaos. It’s no big secret… No parking, I forgot his name, or I'd say it. What's the lure of that building? I feel like I have a large pair of breasts. The town is mostly torn down, now! Sweeping the stairwells, everyday? Things happen, too often. To think, I was actually melded/welded, working, when they called me in, and fired me. Some obligation, you were a whore, you went from pimp, to whore, in the span of two months. Rewriting Rimbaud, in my own words. Hours ago, to my recollection, I was a day reborn, over, and over, and time stood still. When it hung on the wall, or reached my ears, I would have known it to conform, to be true, or false. Now it is kitch, and I have no need of any of it. What’s been left out? I've prepared an answer for you, steal! Now you're in for it, we veer left, right, we crane up, and down. Leering, I talk to the dashboard, during traffic backups. Let that just happen, I don't want to think about them right now. A problem: having to clean the tub, with solvents, every time I use it. See, I don't spend much time there. Don't take your manners for granted. Life is short. Say that again. Life is short! I'm surprised that they’re aren't more, college campus massacres. Six years in management, and accounting classes, has opened up a lot of doors, into rewarding careers, at the Chick n' Basket. You look like you want to look very important. You can almost see around them, an, "air of contemplation." Soon, very soon, I will destroy all classes of people. Especially you, suffer my pen, fucks! Pulled up with strings, Katie, pulled up with strings. Like having 200 miles to go, and not being able to stand it any longer. Sleeping in the backseat of a compact car, not wise. Who sweeps parking lots, at this hour? Get outta here! Hear the slip up, but by that time, it will be too late. At the very top, we'd put our signatures. Vanity plates are for tarts, oh, the political incorrectness. I've purchased a small cache of arms, for the oncoming revolution. Juries stand acquitted, and are dismissed, the scale of justice, slides both ways, but the defendant, stands accused. Who says we're innocent until proven guilty, the blind statue? There is no uncharted island, left to run to, this is the final stop. I come back to where my origins lie, where my descendents cling. Safety, and almost anything I want, for this, I am ashamed. They led interesting lives, making couches out of bones, beating on drums, all night. They say misery loves company, but not in all cases, and in hate, I find security? Attempting to stop the voices, only makes them louder. But I know, there is no… You seem to like to pretend, as if we were still in the basement, with the oven. Not many are happy, of this, we can be sure. Yet, I can't play my games, on you. Like a Hodag, I leapt for the regular, and left, as (the jugular) quickly, as I came. Exclaiming all the way, that I would fuck you, and drag you down. Pull out my teeth, before I climb atop the scaffold, do this, so that my breath will end the pain, not the numbness. It’s still reflectovapors, all around the room, this is no acid trip, Beth. They will come out of the woodwork, you’ll find out what I mean. We all need a playmate? Night hit me, like an imaginary bus. The gravy is understandable, you put the spin on the ham.
Dirt is very important, a handful, is all you need. This is no gangplank television, it’s total collapse. I pushed down the handle, and (to my shock) vinegar poured out of the spigot, vinegar, and soap. No wonder their approval rating, is only 86%. Baby, I thought that if I said I was gay, I would sell more books. Couldn't fake you, couldn't drink your blood, I know your arguments, snot rag. I was that guy that you saw taking a shit, alongside the highway. How many more years, for the guy with the twitch, and the rolodex? Shame on all of us. Go for it, get it. The pillows were (there is nobody better) too fluffy. We all just want to go home. I’d do anything, to get her, have her. There were the twisted remains of a vehicle, in the median. Look for blood stains on the sidewalk, look for carnage, stuck in the guard rails. "Forget it." Then, don't touch me, baby! Infinitesimal, pummeled, two foreign exchange students, seated in the back of the gas station/food mart. I'm not seeing this! Plans just scrapped, for a forty-five dollar, U-turn! Highway horror stories, this is where people died, I wish I was home, without these mechanical failures. Just put a spoon in my general vicinity, heat on high, window all the way open, extremes, I'll return to this, in detail, later, extremes, and paradoxes. Everything is so loud, louder than my sense modalities, can adequately handle. How many times do I have to hear this two chord, tune? Just like cash? Thank you very much, for the catalog. I was class clown in elementary school, but they broke me of those immature ways. Hurl me, physically, and enjoy it. To slowly, like sand in the hourglass, be buried by the disease, by the filth. A left, not a right, the passing of a baton. The point is, precisely, that there is no point, that’s it! Naked, I swim in your river, bereft of clothes, drooling into the middle of the night, with mineral enriched mud. With cess, and stagnation, I bathe, I leave the pond, covered in algae, and smelling worse than when I dove in. I was looking for an amphibian, in which to make peace. Yes, I cannot make crepes with humans, but, with reptiles, it's different. You know, you used to be one, don't you? Which is, "scientifically impossible," you say. I'm restless in the graveyard, again, I really wanted to fuck her there, I almost asked (almost, always). I stole, and stole, and stole, and pushed what they call insanity, to it's logical conclusion, unfortunately, it's only called, "experience." A seasons cycle worth of photographs, in the bottom drawer, and toys I want to give away. An imbecilic certainty, another early childhood nightmare. Don't waste me with butter, or call me on the phone, I'm poly-magnetic. Fatty, blow your nose! Wow, look at her dance, good little Amanda, oh, look at her go, hurray, Amanda, hurray! No matter how many she licks clean, she's an attitude, in fact, that perfectly describes this place. Psychologists say, that everyone is "different," then why do they all look the same? One has a hat, one has an arm, but look at them, they are really, identical. This is what I see, in your popular, singles establishments. Suicidal thoughts, give me the only power, over the only certainty, that exists, in this quagmire, the return demonstration. I am not interested, therefore, I will not comply. My last and only hope, is going to succeed. I hadn’t noticed that before, the awesome power, of dimmed, pain-attention links. I choose not to accept this reality, at this time. Lemming, give her a ringo, pure hops, grains, rotting, you drink it! I will not lose my mind, again. They say love is just another word for lust, but, then again, they say they understand you. Out of the head, as if from a faucet. Step on it.