Coyotes Steal Sadness

Death brings you kisses dick.

Brain dead midget African albino.

There's no need for a suicide, ma'am. I'll kill you after I die.

There's no point in feeling anything. But I have to anyway since God is a damn dick.

Since I have no goddamned dick and just a sweet godblessed dick that tastes of fresh honeydipped strawberries, huh, Olivia Wilde, playing a stripper slash hooker, now I will take those 600 hundred blowjobs, prefferably before Monday, because I have an appointment in the Portal 2 universe for exclusive toilet contracts. Everyone poops, Olivia. You more than anybody. I do have a fetish for your feces, now let me mop up my penis and visit Microsoft Paint for a Rom Com and a little bubbly after wiping the grin off my mom's tears.

Carnival. Is that a place where people eat meat? I don't think anyone has a face that is not made of meat.

The trick is to not be asleep when you're awake.

One must train one's eyes to look at things as they are and notice everything.

That makes me sick. I can feel the bile creeping up into the back of my throat. I can almost gargle it. It feels chunky. Cheesy. It's hot, acidic.

Now try to grab clouds. Even when you can't see 'em, know they're there. Nowhere on Earth is the same as anywhere else on Earth.

You don't need hair. Everyone looks different at different times of day and night. Early morning is when God wipes his eyes and cracks his knuckles.

Rain comes down in various forms, in various eons, on various planets, in various universes. Sometimes, rain rains on humans. But only on Earth. Sometimes humans are under a roof when rain comes down. Sometimes feet get wet. Sometimes feet never get dry.

McBurger Salad, tomatoes and croutons.

I want to be a bad person right now. I don't want to remember what I will do, when later I feel different and want to be a good person and don't want to be discouraged by my memories of being a bad person and wanting to be a bad person.

I have to consider my future self. It comes down to going to sleep or looking at sex online.

I wish I were considerate and good my whole life. I wish I had a whole life. I want to be a baker. Or a baker's wife. I'd like my wife to be my neighbor.

Necklace made of semen. All his teeth are hollow and filled with rotten tree roots. I'ma very bady writer. Point into the white page.

Open windows are death traps. There is nothing worse than me and the internet. I am really very dead. I am like a post civil war ghost veteran with no balls and no heart and no brain and no eyes and no nose ... (just holes) and no mouth and no throat and no organs. I am very dry. I am hung up like a

poster... maybe a mountain. Maybe one cloud. Maybe a few tall trees. They have needs and cones. Home is the only love I need. Safe, beans, inside.

All at home now. I am an emotional hot potato. We're all kids. Failures are home, domes make fire. Coyotes steal sadness.