Monday, October 12, 2009

The reason you can't undo a baptism

The sun and the willow don’t mix

Like powdered tea under a bed of water

Dripping chlorophyll

Ominous green tracking beam

Dripping laser light, shadow area unveiled!


Lifeguard for life, look at that banner

Dripping wet from a long public bath

Swaddling cloth around passion

A joyous song screwed the minds of your mother

Damn the man and his incense

Burned it, flung it, smash it to the ground

Red carpet so soft so God does not hurt his precious so


Haircuts make weak those forearms

With all congregations in the convention of time and space

Completely loving the baby head wet drowning in Capital sorrow

Disneyland makes weak the lobes

Stretched long and low

The asset of gothic logic

Stab coated golden

A hidden cave supports the remote licking

Beat out charts and graphs from your father

Figure, it is important to get told that rolling culture

Brightness levels push up

Up up baby

Breast milk has never tasted so

Push pop vitamin stick


Sunday, October 11, 2009

Succulent gate

Table trasher
Match waster
Time teller
File sharer
Fast learner

Naturalistic mouse movement. Parfum d’armoire spraybottle disguising dirty sex laundry. Document CD in D.C. getting scratched on hard disks.
Naturalistic staged. Processes rebuttal.

Coating lenses for seeing
Coating paper for seeing
Coating stomachs for a long night ahead

Succulent gate! How art, thy, thou, thine heart behold dull and blunted globular organ swollen shut.
Never seen!

Precious ore in minds of the dead, never blue, never color. International inspection connection costs zip on technology time. Buying books; having sacrifices to the hundred gods of eternal thought, and love, and pressure, and typography.

Oh! Succulent gate due open thy tarnished metal arms, latch long fled away through repeated torture, engage a human with tantalizing fantasies of their moneyless coffin. Enlist evolution into the new chemical make up. Spray bashful science nevermore.

Relied always on the thick pudding, distinguished gentleman stuck in situations theirs suits and wing tips can not push them out of, because distinguished gentlemen wait for the pudding to wrap and hold their egos: visibly untouchable. Tis a sight. But an American word that does not seem to hold fast the nature of formal ware or the notion of identity is defeat.

Friday, October 2, 2009

The Green Party

I took off my shirt and realized I wasn’t human. I had been reading about a cave in Latin America and it sounded really beautiful. I never use the internet and my newspapers live next to the microwave. I swore to myself if the radiation from the microwave escaped it would melt the inks of the paper stack, that is a ink blot I want to see, minus the radiation. I grew an extra nipple you know. I am not a fucking alien that can read minds through walls, but I don’t believe in altercations, and I have another nipple. It is not beautiful like the cave in Latin America. Although it is small like a dark mole but more sensitive, I want it removed.

I walked past the microwave and felt my nipples burn. It happened for a year. I walked past the microwave and felt my nipples burn this year, current time, and I was smart enough to invest in a radiation monitor. My grandma is paranoid by radiation. The microwave did not seem to leak, that is what the dial said. There was a party within this time and no one else reported anything regarding nipples. Shitty cause I hate being alone.

I was so excited when I saw the ink blot I decided to act irrationally. After I met with my psychiatrist I went to Ben’s Chili Bowl to let off some steam. I fucking hate my temper recently!

I finished studying the physics and bio chemistry for the evening. I read things aloud to make them sound real. Extra nipple is not in the dictionary which really sucks cause I am still confused and burning a little. Imagine this: a large stack of newspapers with ink smeared like butter. That is really cool and it is my art that I fantasize about. My personalized stationary came in handy for the letter to Guggenheim.

I loved my opening in New York City, the wine was fantastic. Everyone adored the art I hung on T-pins so elegantly. I already made a million dollars. No one knew about me before my million dollars; I liked it more unknown. I moved to Nice. There is a beach that has nude women I am attracted to. I use a toaster oven for everything, and experience zero nipple burning. There is something funny about living in the United States and I think it is related to feeling accepted. That is why I like the green party. An independent man depends on thoughtfulness.

I planted a tree native to the land. Watching it grow will be plenty of pleasure. My wife will never grasp that love.

About Me

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American with a little Tidewater, Appalachia, and Yankeedom.