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I am green, overtired. I love you, hi; I meant to write before, but all my letters turned into long poems (oh, the whimsy)! I did far too little, to improve my situation. Construction has begun, and I'll be very ready, when the time comes. Mouth the words to the hymns. Go ahead, and become somebody else, now. Mentally, and physically, sick, why? I'm in a perpetual panic, that I'm about to have a tonic-clonic seizure, seriously. Mark my words, this will get me, rich. Then, of course, coughing up bodily fluids, not wanting food, that possesses any flavor. Tore apart political yard signs, out of jealousv, it’s not a real clear indicator. Throwing up, out the drivers side window, please, stop! Do not ignore that, for your own good, please, stop, stay away from there. My body temperature has me steaming, not well. The bottom of my bedroom trash can, is full of vomit. Don't take my picture, I don't want to talk anymore, don't ever want to talk, again. All I ever get, are uh huhs, and oh yeahs, but I don't blame them anymore, I didn't know. What's bothering me, is everything, and nothing, but there has to be a reason? Ear wax/Korea, patterned after Indians. Let me leave you alone, twitching, like a dying, rabid rodent. Quarterly earnings statements, losing ground, due to coughing, dying, I don't want to go out this way. There's nothing, sadly, ever really, left behind, well, for some, there are, I guess. My snot, the grey shirt, the beginning of the surge, that gets your memory going, all these things, that prove you're alive. Let go, hold on. Suddenly, cut out of the Queens of Christo Corpus, sleeping on couches, you'd have to know people. Who was I eyeballing, in that afterworld satellite? Scratches on your eye, were truths, to be expressed. This pain can't stay in my body, I didn't expressly ask for permission, before manhandling those goats, and screaming about pornography? Very strange, certainly, they say, certainty! Isn't it sometimes uncomfortable, to just lie there, uninterested? Throwing up in the middle of the crowded poetry reading. This is one that should loot the dry cleaners. At least, I broke up the routine, and needed no drugs, to do so. Colonials have eyes, but they cannot see, yet, they somehow reach out to embrace me, it's the consistency, I value. Regardless of where these vaults are going, that is not where they are. The investigation continues ... all the liberals, scream in horror. Warnings have gone out, caveats issued. I must include something in here, about latrines, outhouses. It’s… they are not going to be obvious, but they are going to be there. The sight of these bloodless crustaceans, the social infestation, safety nets. He was supposed to be famous. This is why we get so upset. Slam the frog into the lilly pad, win a prize. We get lost, so easily. Fade out the scene, on my mark. We’re in and out of the twilight zone, not the show, either. They blame their troubles on the world, the first frost. I have taken terror, and trembling, to a heretofore, unimagined level. All I see in this microscope, are eyelashes. This must be what it's always been, vibrant, and drowning. Egotistical maniac, I’ve been classified, told on, by someone who poked me, wet. Taking cover from the rain, waiting in line (always said I'd be around). Fractured emotions, get expressed, sometimes, something to do, is something I lack. Ollie Otter, licking butter, the flow of molten aluminum; my plastic jet pack, so that I could get away. Soaked shirt, yell at love, for crisis. What we want, how we want it? Junk sale, paper factory, staring at a farm, that's the era you can't sell, I'll take them. Enthusiastic hello, who, and where, you would have been? An address, to scare my fears away, the state of dime store thoughts, on parade. The dichotomy, is growing farther, and wider, my hemispheres are drifting apart. A walrus skull, and tusks, with five foot harpoons, ivory, or caribou, fifty years old. Look in the index, under skulls, weird, and morbid things. Let me have just this one minute, who's the buyer, we all use? Never got rid of anything canvas, been doing it for forty-two years, authority is my cup of tea. Really forlorn, now? Tape it up with cellophane, these are the acts of a nebulous brain. Driving by, just driving by (the commune). Leering at Ted Iafrate, through the remains of the parthenon, I am rejoice, I AM COD. Waiting on the milkman, crying at the curb. Spinning wheelies, on a brand, new, product. Amazing, how long a cup of coffee, can last. They live off of islands, in the south seas, again. No lips touch this corner of the map, the transmission is slipping, the end is near. The mere opinions, doubts were doubted, and returned, to baseline. The drain is screaming, I merely mumble, you'd run through my yard, I'd hear you coming, a mile away. Accumulating retro fifties, fake fun. Climbing over the barricades, and invading the political science building. We really can't revolt, can we? Lets call these feelings, primordial. A creature, lives below this couch, this is a lie. More sissy talk, that everyone call tell you espouse, by just looking at you. Buried the abortions, in between crawl spaces. You punched me in the face, and it hurt, I'll get you, Bubba, I’ll get you back for this. I was never cold, never hungry, lying in the dumpster, I had it all. No time to take on conversational fire. Spelling was so interesting to him, I bought your bug collection, cheap. What took you a lifetime to collect, and label, I put on the counter, in a matter of minutes. Top of the line, we 're odd collectibles, us, human products, locally, in the motion, you shed my coat. Can't send you to them, alleviate concerns, someone will be at your door, someday; amazed. A cross-format phenomenon, far from you, and I feel, so stupid. Read what’s crossed out, dyslexic idiot, I'm losing my hair, do your math! The secret handshakes, let nothing faze me, neurotically lethargic, we cut our hands, it's time to join the North Dakota monk club. Not ever allowed to leave this room, it's not safe, to leave. The kids can catch this buzz, millions of signs, four percent. Already one, my dues are paid, this will be the focused statement, deliberate nonsense. Amputated ballerina, I don't care what you think, sprawling bowels, peace meal, daisy flower, four, this is it’s, two, short stops, one, cancer chair. Put it in the context of the era, or epoch. Come hell or high water, we will get it.
Smelling Manilla, through Castro’s socks? I think it’s imperative, to save another one of the cotton ball eaters. I'm about as free, as the rope will go, there's only so much line. That’s the soundtrack, of my crawl. That can’t be, a disaster, I'm still alive. We wouldn't want to make things worse. Drink alone, at home, don’t venture out into the dark, in a sweatshirt. It was slid in, and it felt backwards-like, backwards. We both saw the same thing, differently, begging to differ, begging the question. Nothing is ever going to change (for the better). The herd stretch out in the pasture, nothing more. Muscle your way in, no matter what, to hell with the risks and consequences. It was, but an illusory image. She has a pie named after her. Light the plastic bag, violet, do the tree limb, violent. You’ll feel the dread and anxiety, soon enough. A lot was going on, after all, but all the wrong things. The skull is on my lap. To believe, that we saw him being led away. Is it really so impossible, to say no, to the things you see out of the corner of your eye? Pleased to say, the clone was used as a sporting target, that same guy, is all over this country. Feed the dog your arm. All the socks have been rolled. I thought I saw an owl, in the middle of the night, they too, must reproduce, to survive. However, was it, or was it not, a Nazi march? This is a bookstore, I was banned. Milwaukee's beers, are becoming empty. Taking a couple of nights a year, to call numbers at random, hang up the receiver. Nothing is worked out, absolutely nothing, has been resolved. A blue face, is axiomatic, in cartoonland, I think you are radical, in a hysterectomy way. Just shaking my chains, defining parameters, ad libbing my way out, of these disorders, and diseases. Might have been a lot like you, at one time. Throwing the hook! Understandable meat injection, given. Could only love one, who didn't swear? My ear is as timid as I am, and reliable. Praise be, to the author, the flowers are all asleep, in the greenhouse, wire rimmed glasses, adorn the cadaver. Plus, there's nothing silly going on in my underpants, a mind, like a tape recorder, let us have the remains. The finger went in a bit too deep, he did it, because he was bored? A public outcry, of filthy laundry, rusty spigot, hidden liquor bottles. The youth are all holed up, in there? Eyelash on the paper, its a creep! When she thought she'd live forever, paired off, into dancing partners. My, how times have changed, no favorite restaurant. Devil's playing with cotton candy, listen to the silence, for a change. Lifting, still, to carbonated water, streaming, my own head games still fluttering, annoyed at me, and my tiny magazine. All of this, I’ve done to (oh, shit) myself. Chopped (high Ph.), canned fruit, is this all there is to life? My hair is on fire, I’m embarrassed by all the attention, but, I need help, dammit. What’s it like, my friend, to really lose, your mind? There's a crutch in the closet, in case you need one. Skin pores, may never heal right, I'm already regenerated. Looking at margarine, as if, it was butter. We get hung up on electricity, automobiles, canned food, and lint. We're on a twenty mile, high school, picket line, somewhere in Japan, it's not the same. I don't carry my guild card, I don't know the fake dance, these things, we'll never admit, to anybody. Spitting chunks of pen cap, way across the room. Looking at the crystal ball, the world will die, slowly, painfully. There's a certain smell, to every town, and they all have malcontents. Most of them, don't know what to do, with their anger, so they direct it inward, envying everybody, in the process. Sitting in my room, on another pagan holiday, there will be no religion in my tree fort! I wanted it to feel like a tomb, it just seems larger. Duffel bags, and luggage, get dusty, when unused. Good-bye, good luck, throw the mincemeat pie, into the grain elevator. She’s still on acid, directing traffic, and getting pregnant. Proof, of the unprovable? Go to Copenhagen, hang up first! The factions are dividing, drawing further apart. Everyone has their unfettered opinion. I hate you, because you destroyed me, and I can’t stand the pain. My plans didn’t work out. We’re just not that eager. I’m trying to obscure the truth. We imitated the dead. Box an ex-Titan…
Rumination, has been my ruination. Ride in on an estrogen cloud, make up your friends. Get used to holding a pen upright, not for comfort, but for light. Outside the roost, the lines were long. Couldn't have walked home, “special" people, get to cut. Infanticidal scream, the worst is over. The bottoms already given out, Socialistic, in many aspects. Scholasticism is fun, a life, for you, and me. Fornicators, live like lemons, soaked shirt, 1-800, want to corn (someday, she will)? Climate of a magnet junkie, a denial of gravity, pencils in order, the fig leaf, hides all the parts we wanted to see. On the cover of another ethics text, surreal? Well, they rioted, while the mayor carried on, clipping a ribbon, for the opening of a bridge. Why the riot? The mob feared traffic backups. America is smarter, than we take her for! Forgiven by neurons, rise up out of the murk, now. Put a little butter on it, butter. I can’t even begin to tell you, how upset with myself, I am. This is the most surreal part of the trip. Spread a little lust around the room. I can almost (is that so?) feel myself, dying. Oh, jaded, to be sure. What will happen? Yeah, there's one in here, but it doesn't work. I’m tired of being a freak, but it’s like what happens if you cross your eyes too long, or, too often. What kind of questions, are these? We’ll regurgitate you! Fluster the idle. Why are we not even floating past, the physics buildings? They can now accurately predict, your movements. Stupify the corrugated rich people. Keep studying algebra. Why are there no cherry trees, in downtown Manhattan? Why do we continue with this sixteenth century, peasant myth? Let the whole thing, crumble. Two, it seems, were where I was, or, went? Anyway, lets get on with the execution. According to the art, they would just drink, and carry each other around! Some punks would stand off in the corner, surveying the scene! Some guys would point to the stoics, and laugh at them. Lets be Epicureans! There's the face I've been looking for. Water witches crumble, at the sacrament, tonight. The electronics are drunk now, just like me. There's a party, but I don’t mind, I’ve got my pen, and a whole lot of paper. This will make me feel better, this is my meaning of atomic (do not miss this) sublimation/vibration. Close to the edge, of hopping over. Off to the rails, with an almost infinite supply, of film. What does your personality brag to you, about? This is flying, this is alcoholism! You die in a second, there are no bells ringing, hope springs the trap, the rest, is mere ornamentation. Let me out of the Te-Hee truck stop, I've committed no crime. Try to edit, while writing, torment, creates its own strange language. Did you punch in? Seven seconds over shittown, seven markers of the apocalypse, on her back. You've got a lot of drinks in your hand, there. Stuttering in Illinois, you're on the air. Should have gone out, to destroy fine china, in the garden, wasting time, but, to never discharge it? We’re gay, straight, either, neither, nor. We can do, and/or be, whatever we choose to? I’d rather not hear your constructive, positive, advice. Fine, flavored, advertising, imperishably beautiful, bad teeth, the trousers are satin, raw, and sincere, the pavement, strawberry. You are nowhere near me. Slit off the top of an ashtray. It takes luck, good timing. Fun with sexually transmitted diseases, part two. They faded, while their lights were still lit. Creeping up behind me, for tomorrow’s yesterdays. I’ll be changing, as the tides turn. Listless in November, a toneless guitar, red sock, social situations. The blind, recede from my gaze. Tower of Satricon, the blue light special stampede, there is no more lunch. Never counted my teeth, shampoo remaining, hot, velvet number. I'm a breeder, in a homogenized world, what sort of convoluted, pick up line? Here's some Haiku, for you to contemplate, here’s the big finish. What are you going to look for? Let me sink off the continent, with the rest of you, the ones that never die. Oh, yes, I’ve most definitely, become a fuselage, a muffled and muzzled, one. Hack off the revelations, fragments, improvisations, and so on. We’re attempting to slit our wrists, with plastic knives. It was my intention to drink, until I got drunk? How can I plan for something, four months down the road? My naked image, four false starts, I like bare flagpoles. Putting the emphasis on what we've never understood. They take their beer with them, provided with neat diseases. My wrists, at least, I find attractive. How can I be expected to sit in a strangers house, for three minutes, listening to people's conversations, about work? How can they spend so much, drink so much? I've lost the planet, again. Give me my time, how can this symbol, possibly indicate, any kind of feeling? Spray down your couch, with plaster, wood chips (how to make them feel uncomfortable). Ignoring subliminal messages! There have probably always been dolls, like that, there have probably always been, canyons, like that. That’s not the foot, of a human being, those were not real. Three different versions, of the same sound? Enjoy this, choke on it. She did something, to her whole way, of looking at things. They'll remember, as I'm thrown down, maybe. Why should I sign the eviction notice? This is very old graffiti. Muscles on a tin sculpture, so firm, you'd laugh all the way home. More than a century ago, I died. Thinking about the world, and our place in it, I'm rankled, I'm tied up (this is sex, this is sex?). Torn out of notebooks, lit on fire. Notices from your headhunter, how can I show my face? He either is, or isn't, very different? How do you differentiate between such subtle egg shapes, with such ease, and confidence? We subsist in hell, and then hear about some actor, making twenty million dollars, for three months of “work.” Sometimes not, one in twenty, is better odds. The most upsetting thing is that, after six years of work, countless hours, I still do not believe that this book is, in any way, good enough. Draw me up on stilts, end, and smash. Watch me bend, until the lamb chop, folds! I don’t get a great, big, bang, out of life, that is, until I finally pull the trigger, and blow my brains all over that wall. Given the benefit of the doubt? I thought I was making some progress, I wasn’t. Is it O.K. to split the credits, like that? Are there always going to be so many names, and numbers? I see the reality, these things are unstoppable. So what do you know, for sure, anyway? Ha! With the expectation high, the reward, means less. It's starting to feel kind of sexy, in here! Finish the course, sing in a kind of, harmony. Why are there things like that, always bound to fuck other shit, up? I'm not intelligent! There aren't any superstars. Pale, yes, painful. One week to suspension. We'd best find those forms, and take things seriously. I just find easy things, hard, dull, boring, lifeless, colorless. It’s about time, to describe my terrifying anger, and rage. Wipe off the sin, of the false actions. Beer will make you sluggish. We’re future landfill, at best.
This is a book, another book, this book isn't about, anything. The funky way, but, nonetheless, fated/doomed, I don’t feel like going into it, at the present time. It's never enough. Acceptance denied, get out! Mental health, and illness, revolving, around, and around. People do not want to know? More randomness, whatnot, even if's, or's, strength of the self, or the will, is a must, but oftentimes, it works against one. Tone deaf sufferers, language, amounts to noises, assumptions. Aware, and away, what sorts of tests, are these? Picking at scabs, consuming the drainage, now, it’s time to wash our faces. We're not all that keen, on hand jobs, here. Blinded, dumbstruck, waiting for the word (sign). Don't forget the madcap, mole man, chase down, even though, he veered off, towards the garden. The pathology of fear; only the children can see the tadpoles? I had it, but it, goes away. Blood, or semen, on the scissors, how many times? Brains all over the napkins, and decorations. The "middle school poetry effect," of looking back, over old writings. The insane duck, squawking, up in the air, muddy, dark, depressed, described. Then, that, and yippy, kye oh, begins. To see that you can, but think, that you can't. The idea behind what, work? This is not pleasure. Somehow, in between, things begin, and end, state laws, are broken. Here we go, a veritable plethora, of foghorns, and spotlights, announced the arrival of the National emergency. Someone hits the panic button, and we get into single file lines; no cutting, no cooties, no gives, no backs. Playing pushup, for pretend. All the nibblings, false lunges, inappropriate comments, crossed out parts, that I only hope, are forgotten, by my "pretend audience." Counting, and recounting, filling in, taking out. Completely written, but never done, it's kind of like, looking back at past years, used, or, lost? It's just a matter of gathering new material, and using those materials (and, using those materials), to achieve some kind of useful, something. The most important parts of life, are usually the parts that we thought were the most meaningless, while we are going through them. Eventful, nonevents, right on. Fuck me stiff, in a straight jacket. "Check your premises," they would cry, like a mantra. Say, for the sake of nothing, aquamarine. Blinds, and curtains, on all the windows, suggest budgetary oversight. Don't coo - coo him, elliptically. To remain safe, and out of synch, never say, "the words". All the horny ones, line up, for sextus (five days of tents) empiricus. One over many, is alone in the crowd; fixed, vexed, hexed. Suck it up, and spit it out. Only seven, were saved. "Therapeutic misogyny training," they called it, I think I've already analyzed the bird feeding thing, with beaks, biting postcard paper with their beaks. I wanted to move the paragraphs, for my own pleasure. Begging off the towel chewing, anticipation, and (it’ll never end) expectation. As far as emancipation proclamations, consider it done, if it can be, done. Bleach, and ammonia, oh, for crying out loud. Like an emaciated fairy, I pranced. All the substance was stripped from this. Brahms is beginning to wear me down. Hydrophobic, drowning in my own bodily fluids. We share the same chains? The star fell out of the sky, with a red, white and blue, tail. The gas station tedium, can get to you. Sleep with the light on, and the door cracked open? Dandruff and bad teeth, sprained wrists, sore feet; we deteriorate, but slowly. Too much pressure, does not lead to good things, or results. Sometimes, it's hard to recognize ourselves, in our own bathroom mirrors, I'm going to need the illustrated manual of sex facts, for this particular inquiry. You’re in for some hard lessons, if you think you’re better than anyone else. Beauty, and danger, go well together, visually. The malady, malaise, mayonnaise, the lame, the organ donor tags. All agony, is being prolonged. Steaming orgasmic churnings; pollyanna, penny ante, degrees. The carrot has been dangled in front of me, you’re not in my head anymore. Ladies, talking to gentlemen, about either tearing underwear apart, or pulling down panties? Call her, buy him, mail order, $26.50. I wanted to ask bluntly, without resorting to, "socially acceptable," hemming, and hawing, all of the mamby pamby, fourth grade, crap. No charm, no cocktails, drinks. As far as variations on a theme, sure, we indulge ourselves. The immaturity factor, has to be measured in, and accounted for, you know, how it's never enough, somehow. Later, after much valuable time has been pissed away, the "too (inferior) late" realizations, and reckonings, trickle in . Let me slide out of this pool, without causing a ripple. Telling ourselves, and others, that we don't suffer from this, or that, affliction. There aren't any secrets. So, where's the butter at? Only pretending to brood, really, just a moron, an idiot. It is like life is being lived underwater, in perpetual slow motion, and that's o.k., I guess. I used to ask why, be a why, now, I am this, up to some island, in order to become, a that. I don’t know. Paintings of fish, or with fish, or the fish, somehow/somewhere, hidden, in the painting. Then, graves, tombstones, caskets, mausoleums, a sort of revenge, for the slights that they've endured, always misdirected, at least, partially so. Even as a child.... things really never change, all that much. Maturity, adulthood, huh, what ? Sure, bills, but this "special something else"? NO! We pay other people, to help us, to help ourselves, I really wish that I had something. It's embarrassing, not having anything to say, of course, there isn't anything worth saying, but that's not the point. The medium is some kind of small talk, without mentioning rain. There must have been a wedding, with a cake, and photographer, present, that these events, take place , the absolute wonder, that can be instilled. At that store, over there, pointing down towards a useless lake. To find another place in which to address oneself, as for the "zero complex", no comment As far as what I can do right now, for kicks, thrills, excitement, just up the ante on it! No more cutting up sausages, it’s all about adding, deleting, cutting, and pasting, at this point (it got cut off). Just be sage, be decent. Real things, in my life, are not in here…