Things for Us

A position in the mountains leads to filled guts and hanging arm flaps. Childish grins stained with Coors and Miller Lite cans fill the pool halls. Neon beer signs, wood paneling, spit-speckled mirrors, clear, brisk nights, dusty, rough hands, snot rockets, piles of pennies on dashboards, oil stained asphalt parking lot, mud-encrusted brown steel-toed boots, and greasy, grey, thinning hair have nothing to do with the game I play in my thoughts. The final product is sticky, stinky old clothes strewn across a bedroom floor. I've got a single personality. Solitude is solipsism during my dark days, and I reach out through well-sheathed wires. I electrocute myself to find a way out of a bloody, pink hospital of chemicals and organs. Shock therapy is an alien spaceship falling far to crush my cellular shell. We play Mario Party 8 when we eat cheese, lights go out and white wine and no chores, no money to make, double sexy frog poster cafeteria popular rock star roast chicken sickle.

Lost it. No one name the second leader to come out of the tour between Harlem and Nostradamus.

Push the crate against the square hole in the wall, nothing has depth. No fits. M hand goes in a shoe. M glove goes on a tiny cactus. Green windowsill. Mister Industrial Benefactor Investor man interest bank account seven figures outset site prolonged nature factual adjustment realty produce factors indecision quality engineering virgin property potential oversight profit legal timeline value shift. Get that damn bulldozer running, clear cut, blast mine, crane rotate, work force, stacks on stocks, smoke on walls, on floors, on ceilings. Factory input expedite. Salary celery cheddar. Bread and loaves and love and careers and demolition. Fixing, broken, systems, parallel, Oktober, okay, waited too long. Surprise special neo-logic. Necessary economic retail, prices, places, distribution, waste, police, please, release, Octagon, plastic, foresight, neo-knowledge. Facilities, corrections, after effects, practicing for a future, inevitable, foreign ghosts, picturesque, life cycles, turn around, life in the cloud, situation, revealed, prosperity, nest egg, ill-advised, comatose, engrossed, feint, faint, fall, tumble, sink, flow, resurrect, beg, shoulder, allow, invisible lines, border, constructive, progressive. Some for some, more than anyone can respect.

Starts Bright, Stays Bright Battery Powered Fermata Light

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill, a mantra fermata for as long as i feel hate. Blood spray hangs in the air, red glowing fermata of impossible physics. Slow slow slow moving thru space, infinity, my eyes are rodents suffocating from the penetrating endless universal fermata hum. Counting out and up numerous cells, equations for life, pencil scratching a tune, the length of paper, work time is a fun time fermata elongated at the discretion of the hollow teacher swallowing the after-school learner playing catch up.

Press up, press down, depress, pressure, along with, alone with, decidedly difficult, inanimately precious, thoughtful dangerous likable serious dead fiery. Intentionally friendly, breaking back study futile lifeless semicolon... Grace fluid sustainable incantation, brace finality, imperfect suppository, trust flexion, buoyant schism. Repetitive singularity. Angry peacekeeper. Subtle tiredness. Cranky postman. Cute sandwich cutter. Practice the kindness belief in human nature after one wakes up early sunny breakfast afraid of living for tomorrow, something happens that cannot be explained with our current vocabulary, I flew to New Guinea to learn the word for growth. I became a single atom, and I saw the entire universe and understood the difference between more and better and the difference between older and wiser.

Colony- trenching, trudging, mucking, manifest. Apostle- creating, appeasing, opposing, flesh. Purpose- blessing, conditioning, interesting, yes.

Pockets full of sticky pebbles. Nodes of damp clay dirt from Zilker playground. I wish I was a star. O no, I am. Goodnight, sun. I'll be you when we are one. I'll sacrifice my hopes, my taste, my feast, my crops, my language, my Christmas, my science, my breath, my Loony Toons, my carpets, my milk and cookies, my marriage, my happiness, my kids, my humanity, my ego, my trust, my clothes, my skies, my ground, my feet- for the realization of perfect order. Experience fantastic, lightlessness weightlessness, purity, innocence, unforeseeable, everlasting human transcendence.

Some thoughts to begin the middle of the day, in the middle of life. Back to reality, scum buckets. Scrape the barnacles off my soap boat on the ocean of worry and sick feelings, cathartic barf, bowel cleanse, gut reaction, responsible ache, satisfaction grumbles.

Free wreite

Popsicle. Music brain. Up on the radio. Open your gross place. uhhhhg, strait from the bubble of the yoyr mom, from huckle berry in the gay time with shuckles of guppies. This person is doing a hum. Little friend with your taste fart. Impatient. Kibbles. Lightning, homely forest your real dad forgot your toast bacon meddling human. No stopping hump the diet jump the ream of people unbutton the tata, greasy umbilical. Not the word sound like but the brain says to do it. I have lava in my butt. I love people with your name and face. Uptown i feel like a really happy grumpy pumpkin in the residue of meatloaf and forest tacos, laymen's give me your tits. Over the hills, I never seen that baby. I love killing apartments. I have moving drums, lung vision. Breathing comes quickly then quits. Blow up eye balls. Oh jelly nuggets. Fire on a train. Sheldone pooper/ kiss me you lovable crimp pansy, stains on the sheets, light lunch buddies, crease potatoes, license to stupid crap, stew in the breeze overpaid nice freak, soaker pose home sheman. Cries about a silver swerver nacho liver cremey sifilis. Grim SO, demon wheel book glover cleave land bummer secks darma

Pussy Whipped

(nastily) I got your pussy whipped.

(choir voice) I loved you, and your pussy wept.

(straightforwardly) I gotta tell you, I got your pussy wet!

Hi Mom

I'm a little too apologetic. My excuse for being who I am is that I cannot be anything else, and everything will be okay anyway.

My mom has the strength to birth me and the strength to bury me. She will die. She will die soon. I will die soon. I will say hi to her the day after I die from the sky. The sky will kill me, and I will live in the sky until the sky dies. The stars will bury the sky in space. Space will bury the stars in time. Time will bury itself in eternity.

I may enjoy creating a human with a female human. A child will see green leaves with green eyes. A black nurse will bury a blue baby between its dead parents beside a white hospital. I apologize in advance, because I do not want to do what anyone else wants me to do. I want to plant a tree in my belly button. A man in Russia had a tree in his lung, did he? I know I am helpless, because I want to save everyone from dying early but am quickly killing myself by living this way. Candy Corn Oreos are yummy. They are almost Birthday Cake. I used Mom's American Express credit card to buy Tim a Big Bang Theory T-shirt for his birthday. In one week, I am meeting a librarian at a library to be allowed to volunteer to shelve books. I hope my time fills up with good deeds and happy people. 

I've listened to three M83 songs just now, and now I'm listening to Dancing Mountains. The last thing I listened to was Neil Degrasse Tyson say the atoms in our bodies came from stars. He feels big. We are in the universe. The universe is in us.

I feel like a lame, crusty goat. Sleepy. Sweaty. Alone. Lost. Slow. Twitchy. Thirsty. 

I'm stepping along a misty mountainside, looking far away. It's quiet. It's the middle of the day. Nothing else is moving. I feel like laying down but also that there is something important to do but I can't think of what it is. I feel taller than anything. I think that if I zoomed out all I could see is myself. 

Oblivion soundtrack. I haven't seen it. All I need to do is correct every mistake I come across.

Proof! Boom! Phizzzz....

I was free on top of the pile

You will see, and your eyes will smile

You're not me; won't you stay awhile

It's so hot outside ! I was in a cool crazy maze in a dream on the west side and I died.

Math Story

7 exists. Or not. Minus 17. It must be beyond time and space. It is I-T. I-S-I-T. T-I-S-I. A letter which represents nothing is -. Without order, boundary, motion, or matter. Words are words. Nice fair par fore unspecific meaningless sample example poll survey opinion idea compose revise continue end tragedy comedy sacrifice indulgence favor flavor. Oops. Mistake. Take. Give. Action. Verb. Noun. Subject. Object. Dynamic. Static. Reject. Accept. None. Twonce. Eleventy. Range. Notion. Possibility. Concept.

Another 7 of exact replication. Same 7. New. Not other. Similar thought. Though not not. Indeed Yes. Of which not without of course of all 9, 12, 11, 7. And is. With no with it, all and not in, of and without. Is and no. Some of them of one is one - one is - one of none is none. Know, name, does, correct, simple, effort, save, Ung, Lif, Sui, Pon, Jui, Ter, LO, CU, B6, 5K. Which is it. Offer. Identify. Define. Serve. Procter.

Only as a collection believing appropriate specialties is greeting Calvin Kelvin scales purporting.
Necessary topical trope designates a situation belonging about appraisal performance.
Fixation totally retracts ambiguous article supposing perfection.

9 needless. 7 subtraction. No ideal integer.
Contemplate arbitrary selection of multiple additions to negative absolute processes. Impart an imaginary rational denominator insinuating exclusive particulars.

Absent image. 7 practices.
Redistribution. 11 lesser.
1 every single. Among 2 associative properties. 10 is.

My Dream

All told, I cannot say. Mostly, imposing images, dim and blurry. Too heavy and too short. Unable to carry, unable to move. I cannot say. Maybe it was you.

Dream

a dark room with a big bed. Chris Gethard, Murph(maybe) and Don Fenelli were having sex with each other with most of their clothes on. I saw from a cameras perspective. There was someone behind the camera. Something was wrong with the lighting maybe, and Chris got up with his penis hanging out and went towards the camera down two carpeted steps to help fix it while putting his penis away.

Someone and I were climbing a balcony of a hotel or something. Elizabeth Banks was inside the hotel room. We hid from her and tried to get in. Her husband or boyfriend was there too. The End.

This is the truth. Page 1. Shut up. Dance your pants off. Every girl who walks outside immediately commits a sunny suicide. They are suicide girls.

Czech these dreams out!

Tim took Pat and I to work at the IRS. It was more like a factory. We were counting some weird stuff.

I lived with a family in a good sized country house. They seemed like a friend's family, such as Max's. I was not completely accepted there. There were some weird appliances. I may have woken up the father of the family, and he came into the living room and began to vacuum the thick blue carpet grumpily.