I built a greasy rafter aftershow to embloden my favorite actors.

I stand rainbows in corners fired about in brick-a-brack cookies.

It's morbid.

AND funny...



And they look at me like I'm more funny than they are.

And if I am?

What **?

Should I resend myself?

Dive in a bar?


Never.

I have a way to get by.

Get by in life.
Sorry, so do you.

We can burn up.
Or we can end up in a hedonistic stew,
after spending our lives melting, and doing out best,
doing our best to live a fun life, then wind up in a vat.

To live all day and make your best,
only to wind up into a battered smoked-out whiskey barrel.

A junk food vat.
Cake with nutrients.

Very 'not sterile.'

Caulked and sauntered in a evercornered in a vat of sugar goo.