ive got this thing and i want to type it out
probably because i have no other place to exercise this demon yelling at me to "get it together"

some times, it is easier on me to type and not write with a pen.
so here it is. out ward! weird.
i am washed in a sudsy sunshine these days,
and nothing seems able to be fucked up ever again.

THE END

i dreamt we were laying together in the grass next to a house that was building itself

LATE LAST NIGHT THE POET HIMSELF TURNED ME INTO A PHILOSOPHER

aint my home,
just passin through

It's been a while. Thought i was gonna die tonight, on the carpet. The same
old stupid carpet I thought I would die on, often times, years ago.
I'm getting too old for this.

It always passes away though,
the wildness and the numb limbs

the awkward reality that follows still drops my scrambled brains into your lap

nobody else ever understood

everything is dumb january sucks grumble grumble

as i look back, or read back ( Read more... )

Why the hell did I choose for myself the stupidest career in the world?

To be able to pack it all up would be the greatest

Really

totally uninspired by you fucking charlatans

dusty crummy and boring

life has become such a gnawing pain in the ass

im excited to meet the next one that relates

bring it on, fucker.

wonder how often our thoughts are crossing up there in the debris stream
often, i hope. or what is the point? afterall, after-it-all, afternoon, of all this