Will The Feral Die Knowing

Doss cunts united, blue suits and red ties. If the beginning offended you then I'm glad, because you're either ignorant or just a bad word. It isn't that you're stupidi, it's just that you don't know. And I know that, because I don't know from nada, except being, an ignorant
bad word. That, and I hate someone over my shoulder, because I
had a rough childhood-not that rough, but brothers are some flying attackers until the pussy and ortho respect kicks in-and I do know, not to trust anyone; I think that's the lesson here, odd the other's that you need someone, and they, need you. But you aren't born savvy, and even when you up, you still don't know exactly who.

July Has Got To Go

And so do we all, but I hope you make at least 80, with a passle of grand babies, or whatever you're into; unless, you know, it's sick
or something. I can break them up, if I like! I can bang bang!
But I no longer put holes into the walls.
No, I wouldn't call that maturity either.
And I never, banged those ways.
Because you can't tell them what to do.
I hope this finds you future well.

I Do It For Singapore

And Singapore does it for me. Just my biomedical stuff, mostly, and sometimes in the sling. And sometimes on the floor ... but mostly in bed, because we know the value of 4 good knees. I built a coal firing plant to keep you wrapped up in deep cold bliss, and a series of tunnels so you never have to see the surface, if you don't want to. You don't, it's getting awfully dusty up there; but not as dusty as we.

Who Do You Look Like

Write something happy. Okay I'll barter that for not biting my nails. But, I'm already down to the quicks, and you would never believe me anyway, because we keep our lovers the closest of all. Until we let go. And some brave souls never do. Are they, the better half of us, those that go on loving even after they've forgotten, what the face? Time is a friend that way, but it doesn't know "wait". Isn't it odd the things that stick with us? Probably heard it in a song once and related.
So now it's on a loop, all except for the shiny new ones;
silver mixed with lots of rust, spinning happily by.

Own It

Ur Pa Fuckd Ur Ma Surely

If you've finished the pack before the cellophane and aluminium-esqued paper has been unstuck from, picked up off of and trashed, maybe you're smoking too much, too fast. This one goes out to the shuttled set. I hope, those two (or three or four) both (and all) care about you and your: brothers and sisters, steps of same, small furry animals; you'll know what they mean by relativity, when you think of the foster fired, the orphans, the sadness makes me stop; and then tomorrow I'll pick up the remote and I'll pause for a second on passing by some so called news and then I'll pick up my misanthropic club all over again. You think I don't know what you think? All those bad wee things? We have too much in common not to know. And they smell of hypocrisy to deny while they grin and put crescents into their palms.
I hate that in a pheromone; and fear, denials, and fake ass smiles.

All Ur Phreakz R Belong To Us

The Serial Shooter (thought to have killed 5 people, wounded 17 and targeted horses and dogs, too) is the twin brother of the Baseline Killer (thought to have killed 8 and sexually assaulted 11).
Pinkish cinderblock walls, everywhere.
Crushed stones and paved egressing.
Fallujah west, the tents and Joseph.

Someone Set Up Us The Bomb Ur

A Heavier Armored Presence

We regret to inform you that your combat tour has been extended to: forever. Mommy, what is sec-tarian bio-lints? Can I play on the con-puter? While you sit buffing the pewter you just had to have on the pew you got at that darling little shop down by the river, you know, from the old church that went condo, I forget its name. Won't you have some tea? While I try and bend it back through the loop where my mind goes, a plane tied to a piece of thread, to pierce the eyelet for the mother ship in the name of duty and tradition, but instead of flying through and letting go and for home, I fly for the tethers end. It doesn't have to mean anything. No thanks, and crossing the street.

Agree On A Fee

If you don't trust them, is that just you projecting? I want to be good, but I don't trust me for eek, so meet your brush; do we need to add the too? I want to start, and say "with", but it's everything, this is your life, this is what, you want. Sometimes even maybe, but not usually and those dreams will be flung down at your feet and under others, but they wash out well, and black spots are our simian gift. No, you may not ride me like a horse, I won't walk on my hands and knees for feigning principles, and you always choke me when I stand to run; and who doesn't love that sound? Like the voice in a fan one.

Checks and Anvils

Now that's what I call a captive audience. Are you zip tied in place, your own self? I like it but it's nice having a guard to hold your hand in this...locus. As long as we both know, that the other, can't tell the other what to do, now run on and tell all the little children of SE, that George is buying every dove (#3) sack you can get; got it? Pax means peace, but you'd do better trying to ink out every bit of the white in an 11x7 ream or destroying the self interest(ed only) groups as you would finding any of that. And you don't need a MF poll to know it.

Number 666

One Less The Devils Number

Also known as 6:56. It was a weird game of footy time? Or the exact number of fights and kisses I got into at bible camp; I'm not proud, it was the only one I ever got to go to, and I won all my bouts and was a greedy learner at the woolen topped bunkbed games; oh the swooning joy of the nubility, of the nubile line, or maybe I meant ah. I won't get into the mass hypnosis missionary position, go to my knees, or look meekly down as they mumble: submit, submit, submit. But you like it, and you're down with being down, and you needed, what you needed. I don't begrudge it, but I despise close talkers and shoulder grippers, hand talkers and sales eyes; and I hate to get all Cali, but I need you to respect my personal space, because I don't have a trust fund and pol's in my pocket or a gated community where the nice uniformed officer always tips his hat and whispers a silent "Sir".

Hard Gray Miles

2 bills for a piano tuneup isn't that much, when you consider the costs of tuning up us humans, in the prices we pay for crushing and in the requisite damage done to ourselves; and if change has such a (pax) mandate, then why do I see your unavoidable mug everywhere I go? 12 Aussies to the U.N., "Fuck you mate. You sit in the tower."
And while still in profane mode, fuck Metallica.
Global trade deal? Corn!

The Nut Of The Miter

When they medicate you numb, and/when/if you stay on schedule, you're no fun anymore. But would I trade? I guess I'll find out; by which I mean you will, I avoid those people. I don't believe in
farm, the ology, not the gladiator schools or shrinks; I prefer ducklings. We know it's hot, so shut your mouth and save your moisture, go dig a hole and sit in it, ram dirt a wall that might actually insulate, face up to solar. Reflect with white and absorb black, turn off the sprinklers and xeriscape, step out of the vehicle.

Bring Me The Heads

Of Burke And Bloomberg: If it was Manhattan it would have been on with one phone call. Jorge Busha don't care about no Astoria Queens. I don't know anything about any Saints, nobody named Louis neither, but I know the 9th ward is still off limits, and if you visit, you'd best be packing. Now about that there lightning. In Boston, a woman was gunned down in the exact spot her brother was killed four years ago to the day. Winkie the elephant is spared, but there is no sanctuary for his kind in any Tennessee; just false hope behind frosted glass.

I Say Nothing For It Morphing

And I don't care if I get pinned. Pining, that I know from, but it's usually a false positive, another human type wanting thing; while need holds her fast fading sister in the basement, both starving. I hate you all unconditionally, and if this interferes with your pursuit of happiness, a win still in all. As in winsome, for I say hate to(o) much, and I. But he don't have to make no sense or find the third man, punk she ate, do a damn thing. Aspirate on the glass, then quit posing, you're alive. Do the pictures of the happy newlyweds-blue line click, attachment click, click clique-make you wish you were thusly bound? Have you ever been? Can you ever be? We all wonder. If we. Lovable. Enough of that. I've seen too many dead eyed predators here abouts, wandering among the edges and the oh so oblivious prey, to fall back in love with you all again. Thus, so. I'm going to be lonely for the rest of my life. A tree struck by lightning, half dead rotting aviary and bug nursery hostel hotel motel mortuary, and half reaching up for the sun.

Talk To Him Then

Perspective shots give me La La La La La, and I don't, know, why. Why did you deliberately disobey me? I don't know. How'd you know exactly what I was going to do. Are you the mind reader, or just a master idea's woman? As I cross my fingers behind my back casual like, and think to myself, fuck a quote mark. I like to skip, so think the worst of me while I'm bouncing down the bike lane, knowing one of the commuters will snap and swerve on. Is it really better to get it from the back? I always liked those little timesavers, but I hate all the studies and the costs and the graft on the graft of the graft.

That Ain't That Weird

Swedish career criminal, Jan-Erik Olsson, 64 (whose 1973 bank robbery, and accompanying devotion by his hostages, originally inspired the term "Stockholm Syndrome"), tried to turn himself in to police in Helsenborg in May, but one officer apparently found him too likable and encouraged him to stay on the run. Lance Kocses, 30, was cited by police for causing a $5,000 accident in Seminole, Florida in May. According to a sheriff's deputy, Kocses was distracted in making a left turn because he was eating from a bowl of Frosted Flakes. According to a lawsuit filed in June in Minneapolis, the reason Minnesota Limberwolves basketball player Eddie Griffin drove his SUV into the plaintiffs' parked car was that, at the time, he was watching a porno video and masturbating. (Police cited Griffin for inattentive driving.) Adam Curtis Hunter, 18, was arrested in Cockville, Tennessee in June after smashing his car into a house and passing out nearby. When police arrived and found marijuana and drug paraphernalia, and discussed citing Hunter for driving while intoxicated, Hunter objected. According to the police report quoted in the Cockville Harold-Citizen, Hunter said they won't find marijuana "in his blood because he didn't smoke it, he just sold it."

And Then I Said And

If your battle is grammar and language correctness in modern society, and you like to diagram sentences in your spare time and always finish the crossword before the train comes into your station, well, I commend you on your black and white checkered skills, but you will be forever bitter. Because we pull it out in ookook eekeek flinch bang boom speak, afferent preferred and synapse kicked stone, mystery kids. Bring it up to me, all this knowledge we've gained,
I'll tell you a story about a million deaths in hundred days and how blood makes a lovely fertilizer and how machete's are low tech but high design and about a war that will never end that isn't the middle of anything and its only direction is towards crazier in the guise of a sea of rocks and hardheaded human waves; something equally stupid.

Different But The Game

hh_hhl3: Inn, mention rhythm and most people think of music: jazz, hip-hop, fugue, waltz, etc. But few people realise that writing has rhythm. I don't mean just the toe-tapping beat created by the rise and fall of syllables as word follow word.
Innthesh: some writers have a cadence...it flows..so easily...always a pleasure
hh_hhl3: I mean all the patterns in writing: the sound of words and phrases, figures of speech, rhymes, repetition, etc.
aghatasim: iggy... do u expect a simpson to have a nice opinion?
Innthesh: like that poem..."the highwayman"....flows
Knight In: The Simpsons in my home town are perverts

Eat The Worm Or It's Over

When you leave me for some clever younger girl, I'll raise one to you both while I listen to this. And all of you foul unwashed, like me, will never know the song. Because you don't care, and I don't care to tell you. Blood brother cuts, between boys and girls, are called what again? No, the non domestic disturbance version thank you.

Dissonant Fridays

5% news, 37% personal, and 58% who cares.

This Ain't No Blog

I will yap about love, loving, affection and fucking, mix wandering and wondering, and worry for nothing. Be as crazy as I can be, talk fast like a yankee or two longtime spanish speakers, dance to the bed and bedlam bounce back out again, overuse the word again, overuse myself, overuse. Slap mosquitos, punctuate where I like, kiss like maybe I could freeze us forever in that happy place, if only I could focus hard enough. Be the best dam and the worst and the ugly middle, hate us because I know us best, yet disdain the hate of the others, because secondhand info isn't good enough to damn us all.

Charlie Nee Up Chuck

Fuck or die. Fuck and die. A pretty bow of your favorite color, for the fuck of your personal choice. Why do both sides insist, that this the human portion of our planets program, began with la one woman?

oymaker: yes, badosama. I think he'd make an excellent caddie.
simplex: i'd eat two eggs everyday if i could =/
inkstainedfin: Two or three eggs a week aren't bad for you.
mydogplate: Nah, bad caddie, bad, bad caddie
inkstainedfin: Eggs contain perfect proteins.
simplex: a day!
oymaker: "the 6-iron, George. Thanks."
mydogplate: Gives George the wedgie
oymaker: "Any of those Shiner Boch left in the cooler, George?"

He'd just sneak drink all the Shiner and steal the cart before the turn.

Count Stat Counterstat

Made up on the fly by overly handsy talkers. What're they selling? I always wander. But I don't even have to wonder when I hear change jingling, but I don't have to tell you what it means, about everything, or anything; two butts meeting, the perfection of a coconut, and ah the fronds. Is Jing Ling a Chinese name, because I swear I knew, or knew of one once. "Never heard of him", the proprietor says glancing up at and yet past me, in smooth yard precision. This world is a shiv, and there are more than four quadrants and the odd bisecti to defend yourself and yours against, and our ears don't prick up and into alert like they once did, and the hair doesn't stand up on the back of your neck, and your gut only cries out for things, you never should have eaten at all; so we never learn what a gut feeling is, for being full.

Beware The Popo

Oh, so you want to see a picture of? I said hate again, damnit. And some hate the word love. I don't need to accent them. You all know. Like I know all about our all having abandonment issues; except for maybe the autistic. Do you think that's a good bubble they have? Or's it like a coma where you're aware, and yet can't wake up up? And do they scream themselves to sleep at night, unheard? Schadenfreude means pleasure taken from someone else's misfortune. But I usually get angry for not being able to help, and then angry at my anger, for my not being a soft rounded edge. Another picture? Fucking humans.

Do It

I hate "Sup". I hate "Din" too. Is it a bad pun racket, or just another scam? At least steal your own language. Own that shit, the way your ass owns you. Well if you ain't married, then why are you two always shaking it together? And if innocence were truly the hardest thing to defend yourself against, then how the fuck are we all still here? I'd like to apologize for my profanity, but this is how I speak, so now I apologize for that too, may my meek so meet and mate with mute; right after these messages, of an electron shot, sliced fennel seed.

A Stolen Sharkskin Suite

The Texas insanity defense law requires that a delusional person acting under "orders" from God be judged not guilty by reason of insanity, but that a delusional person acting under "orders" from Satan be considered sane, according to prominent forensi-psycho Park Dietz. Thus, Dietz believed that Andrea Yates knew that drowning her kids upon command of someone "without moral authority" was wrong and thus that she did not qualify for insanity law protection. Dietz later concluded the opposite in another Texas child killing case because God had supposedly assured that mother that her kids would be better off dead. Enrique Mora of Montclair, Calif., said that within a few days of his gold detector's having sounded in his front yard, he had dug a hole six stories down. He said he had only planned to dig three or four feet, but got "carried away." John C. Veltman M.D., 52, of Martinsville, W. Va, was arrested after he commandeered a backhoe, hit a building, a tree, and then crashed through two fences. Veltman allegedly told an arriving police officer, "I am a motherfucking medical doctor, and you are below me."

Stone Bone Soup

The sexiest geeks, want recognition and a chicken...pick your own ending and bite down. I love the ways the stories end in my head on their twelve steps (chess reference; drunk much?) to freedom run, better than this #.# version, they call it reality, but that bitch is a show; so what the fuck is this? Pain. I like that, Joy...and Pain, joint better; sure, I've dated myself before now, the hands just fall, there. "This is all about cycles" said the General, "look closely into the black circular stone, it was once a liquid, and we are the same in reverse."

Rain Dancer Wanted

Governor: Big trouble with Big Dig bolts. Me: Grande trouble with big dig dolts, bolthead. Shuttle fears no foam. The Bekaa valley run. Oh Lebanon, no wonder your people have to walk the world ala Kane; what an unholy trinity of politics and sects and unlucky geography. Did he say sex? I think so. And call the trinity unholy? I believe he did. Now two uns equal one, chile, never forget, the word mother is a verb, and it is until the last beat of the last breath. If you get that.

Talking About Its

I know about what you're speaking, and I don't like it. The cookie changes ever so slightly when using a different browser. Now that we've gotten the what the fuck out of the way, how are you? I like feet of fury; it lets me know you care, and that's why I'm laughing; while trying to block the hardest blows. If you like absurdism, you'll love this $180 dollar headlight: now that I have quiet the words spit on me, laugh in my face, then run off in the joy of the giddy escape.

My Love

Rockets around my northern territories, but I always counter by blowing up the airport and all of the points of ingress and egress; with me on the other side heading south fast. Cue his back and the sun setting, because we need stones to touch, being blind, and our happy endings, being stupid. We see what we want and through the rest, or pretending, trying to. Thinking is not a learn by rote activity, that is the sound of the surf breaking on some shore. There are no good actors in this, just people who try to do right, and those who don't care; because I'm tired of the gray, and the empty words of the evil, their scriptwriters, the lapping masses. Tragedy is our favorite sport, and no ball on this ball can touch it; but why is it all so funny?

A Series Of Boobs

I Wish I Could Delete Race

None of us gets a choice in who we say "I hate you! I wish I was never born!" to. Do you imagine, that the kids playing the old thyroid-left thyroid-right on hut-two, don't wish they were the first picked instead of last, again, off of the hanging fence; better a sad smirk and to play, than to be twisting. But we'll break them off later. A little something. A series of somethings. Self hate replicating, mostly. And don't we share that, like we don't everything, every little thing, else. I just wanted it because you picked it up. Empathy is a useless fit, but not as useless as hate and ignorance and apathy, not that you can touch them, what with their mass celebrity, highest Q scores, and general worldwide demographic domination; I believe in it yet.

Two Second Slice

rusted_viol: marriage sucks
negativeion: sadly, i was once a man-whire
negativeion: er, man-whore even
lordholywilly: i ask simple questions
hallucinoire: marriage is an illusion.

You are a man whirring.
We are the weaker sex.
It was nolo contendre.
End generalization.

The Price Of Cement

Oh, I'm sorry, I was just daydreaming about the public transportation systems we could have had with all the money that fell into that hole named the Middle East. Slut. And not the good kind. It would have been a never was anyway, true enough, but I did say it was a form of dreaming. We can't have anything we really need, like equal subsidies for fruits and vegetables, because (so)soy and corn(co) have it sewn up, and nobody wants to stay at the table and scowl down at the plate when we have places to be, while we're somewhere else in our heads, to be. The definition of Irony: It's awfully easy to steal a government issued hummer, or sleep rent gratis in the barracks of America, right about now. It was a money grab. Same as ever was. Wider regional conflict. Oil weapons. Frisson! 500 billion and motherfucking rising.

Lucky Us Good

I Hate Dre For M&M's

Some Real Convo For Yo Ass

The National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing? If that's stock, then the corn syrup I swill like a hummingbird with a sick yo nectar habit, may really be all natural. There is no talking about yourself in the third person in team, but baby ain't capitalizing nothing until the pesos clear. Caymans? Never heard of them. Wait. Isn't that like, some kind of south american crocodile? Carry that I your damn self. Wait again? Covered like a fresh falling duvet. Shaken out high and then given up to gravity. Like your eyes go down. Lay off of the periods and say something, something to make them cry the poison out, fight fuck or die because it's a good god damned day, and all the plastic in the world won't hold us up. And I slipped of the hook again. For a second third and sixth sometimes: Sometimes I think we're the hatter slowly going mad, and sometimes we're the mercury seeking its level, silver mirrors with navel gazing abilities. Good, great. Neat, nice. Switch them out and off, for digital night awaits.

The Prettiest Moon

And the claqueurs cheering rolled like sound waves do through the hills and dales from coast to coast to. "Look Ma! We ain't in debt no more. Oh happy day." Now you may project. Not like that, cheaters. White rice alone gives no sustenance. What? Yes, I'm "challenged".

Dirty Terrorist Headbutter

Syd Barrett Is Still Alive

Wakey wakey Michael DeBakey, I need a heart lung transplant, and you need some new body. Sure we can get you a pretty one, they're everywhere around here, and you can get their records easy if you want past medical history, or any other variety of mystery matter. Bombs away in nuevo Mumbai. The Big Dig, it isn't just for being a moneypit anymore, now it's a stone killer; prepare those politician's pancake makeups, stat! A $35 dollar demolition job, for a $9 million dollar home? Nice work. Isn't divorce swell? Like fun it is. Smoke and inhalation. Critical fixes. Dittos. Then we take it again from the top.

Your Next Blue Addiction

A good one! Except for the ads and shrunken rectangleness of it.

Four Outage Just Portage

I bet if scorpions were a little bigger we wouldn't be turning them into plexiglass paperweights. Or maybe it's lucite, no matter, we all get pinned somehow. I hope yours, was just like you wanted to be shown, just like you like. I'm listening to Joy Division and sleeping all day, because those are what I picked instead of a convertible. And I've slept with teenagers and road rashed myself up already, back when I was immortal, so no need to do that again. Thank something. Okay, just be thankful. I know they're "seminal", but I just don't like it. Zap.

Detached Retinue

Seven-Eleven Wawa

Bad things come in 3's, but maintain your gracious self, you may get a pardon, and have sweet loving arms to fall into, if you're into that sort of thing, you never know with people nowadays - yesterday and tomorrow too - you may have them smoked out, but unless they're dead the stingers remain; and if you ever killed a wasp and then watched it, you know that even dead, the stinger still pulses for purchase. Lucky us good is mixed in liberally, may you know it.

On No Ending

They had everything then, that we have now, except for this many people and ways to avoid them. It isn't a "donut hole" it's: Oh fuck, you never could tell you anything. Waffle: What will happen to us after we die? Your guess is as good as the next dirty water car washes; potable? We laugh until we fall down, and then rise like cake on a fork, but some kick it and then run screaming through the night for crumbs of love and the last fall. Yes, I was in the grocery store as I dreamed this, and then a small child kicked me awake; and on into?