Stuffing brittle remnants of dead little bits,
crammed in a stovepipe shaft
had lighted and lit up a huge fireball
over all of my peers and enemies.

It wasn't hard to see at all,
unless you liked living under a rock like me.

It was the sort of thing you regret never having saw,
and the sort of thing, if you were you
you would never see.

I grazed over a stained-glass marble work the had hung up in my office for fifty years too long.

I managed to mount a log of ******* on the wall before all of the college kids realized it was an atrocious idea.

So.....
(I did this)

I sent a saliva sealed manila envelope to the smartest people and the world.

And I sat and chew on my foot while everything burned in soggy peasant grass.

Good ideas last as long as atrocities.

My marbles shine...

they sparkle ******* in the corner of the floor.


I had to scrape up all sorts of crooked glass *******, because I had expected early evening company.


Never again.

After works I forked over tip dollars in order to pay for all of the premium services.

Even still, after, I neglected all of my maniac potion recipes.


Instead, I just waited to see
how bouncy and fun fun fun every one might be.

Mud is the word of gods.


You only are afforded fungus if you can knaw on your sisters ankle.




The world is raw.

And we can not let you be nothing.

You're strong.

and perfect.


I'm sorry.

Have our food.

I get it.
you're perfect.
We do what we can.

I span over gravy trains.

Other than that.... Just be a superhero.

Obstain.

Enjoy your muscle density and fast hearts.

I'm hungry.

I'm not bad.

I'm hungry.

That's why I'm sad.


I'm sorry.


I miss my grandma's tortillas.


I miss breakfast.


I miss her stew.


I miss waking up.



Because she is dead.


But she would make breakfast for you too.

I pocked a glass candle holder after I knocked it off the shelf.

I smelt burnt tortillas, and felt like a monster.

I floundered.

I snickered.

I broke a bit off of a bar of KFC gravy.


I'm sorry.
Maybe I'll be good.
Maybe I'll be nice.

Maybe I'll move foward.
Maybe...
Just Maybe...
I hate rice.....

White Rice.

I love vitamins.


Just not white rice.

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.