Letting Me Go

Play outside for a few. Now, where was I? Why can't I juke me out long enough to write something really real? I say I don't delete, only edit, but that is a lie, it's still censorship; and if I call it a cowardice, well, who knows me best? Some of them anyway. Let go? I'll walk the ledge, but I'm never giving up the only crazy I know, call it port, or happy place, or just me in a fetal ball. Rolling on the floor with the dogs. I guess I can understand our love for them more than us, they bite it all better, and I'll incorporate it in to every last post I ever dig, tamp it tight and send it off into the quikrete dark. Which one is the happy medium one? Are you planning to get any more in? Oh, I see.

Sibilant September

Is the cigarette still burning, in your nodding hand? Do you shake yet? You will. This is a test, this is all Tuskegee, all Alabama, and you always did want to fly. Say: We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep. Because they always misquote the bard. I used to dream of driving over the cliff before I even drove, so now I backseat drive incessantly, and need a sleep mask to maintain my blood pressure when being chauffeured.

End Of Dazes

And on to prime time malaise. Is a sauce made by slowly adding oil to an egg yolk, mustard, vinegar, and salt? Oui, mustard helps to keep the emulsion stable. They burned off the doors and ate them up, every one. Autumnal equinox, how fair you look from here,
in this the crispiest, most sold out of hollow places.

Eight Words Of Consolation

You know how blah de blah blah. Writing, something pretty, is the hardest diamond curse. What do boys know from beautiful? We just want squeezing. This is my child bride, her name is OCD Boa, and my how she's all grown up now. I am still crazy, this is still crazy, I never really cared for Pacino, and Deniro burned his capital with me, on blunts and phat asses, but one must(?) respect the game; for at
least 72 hours + or - whether they drop, the charges, madness.

Ennui Monday

"Oh it burns" and running off for water, which will also. I like your profile, but when you turn and face me you go all Picasso, so I cock my head sideways like a dog searching for the right eye to lick well. Get your rollon, sleep chance dreams, kick your legs and throw the covers, cry out and be still. If you make it, you'll do it all a thousand times, so don't take this one too hard. He called media coverage "inexcusable." Not as much as you and your sad crew, MF.
This one, is for all of our "allies", in Baluchistan.

D Shoutout

Cat creep, must be night, glowing eyes blink once for yes. I just said the name E Hawksworth as a representation, one sliver in the basket of our interwoven flickering fantasies, be they real, or imagined; ass long as you admit we all have them. It was about a broken sentence. I meant how we lightning, doppelganger by another mother, lockeyes and die, and then live it out, dead person walking here hello. I won't take from you, imagination, our best Houdini. This one, like all the rest is dedicated to all of the dying books lying out on the sidewalks of the five boroughs. I like Heigl's odd teeth and glow. Weird?Check. I like E's smile and ambitious exuberance, but I know the hits are for the four letters, starts in t, ends in s. I know. No bet. Yes I said ass.

Cell Suicides

All hail the medical state, maybe they'll send a helicopter to drop medical supplies, if, we're good. "I don't think I missed anything."
The wrong runway blues. Our great desertification. Half your life.

Invalid Enforcer

Now that The Office has Hollyprops, will it suck like its latest promo? And why is everything better, before the blush falls, and wilting drib petals drop? Ricky Gervais blushes brilliantly, kitty lap like milk? Poll: America not ready for another disaster. For the win before during or after, anytime. They justify, because that's all they have left, but it was wrong and we all owe and blue or gray? Om the blessing of boom.

Fake News To Me

They don't call it sugar of the gods for nothing. I'm glad I got to see birds, even if you may have a morbid distaste for them, since once nearly losing a finger to one as a small child, in my life. Chad meet Ernesto, fill all your tanks and hold your breath. Don't forget milk, need the chemical analysis, and bread. Don't forget to check the date. How long do canned goods last? She dashed to freedom the moment she got a chance, but wept inconsolably when told her "master" had thrown himself in front of a train. Bastard press, doesn't anything deserve a pass? Leave her be and kill yourselves.

I'm Wet She's Hard

Four shots later "You got any papers?" and the long slide into shots
5-8. But we always wake up back in bed with our got addict gene selves. Its a good thing the bad long days gone by are long gone because the addictions could be so very much worse and more expensive. Its hard to write with your eyes half open and your
legs ready to be fully, but ask and ye shall get that shit. Wut.

Spread It You

Welcome to your uni form, model 724, don't fight the fubar fact, you will be mistrusted by those not of your specs, and even your own, will slide their eyes sideways, now scanning, regardless of how you would treat them if they ever cared to know you, or yes just feigned it; but that's copacetic, or some mad fad future robotic word for it. Are you touching your monkey? Is it time for the moneyshot? Are you tired of pron and con references? Isn't it time, for tomorrow, to come, today.

Red Flag Warming

When will they learn (stop and what the, vice verse, same diferencia) to plant berms with sea grasses in generous paralelo, right of respect way, to the oceans? To give back that sand and silt diverted, and not to put all the industry, next to the potable? La misma. The same one.

I Love It Almost All

This one goes out to you, on your back asleep, touching your center and slightly splayed, your legs, my the dirty dirty minds; we'll call this whole world Atlanta, but don't call me Daddy, we haven't a clue as to what that means, and I slant that that sincerely. Signed with an ass above the ass tattoo, and that's ass three and now five times, so go unlock the prize box, the one that brings people back into the bottle we were and that we are now just remnants of; shards in the guise of sheeps, for eating by our own kind, they have diamond grills and love barbeque. Orwell was mostly right about things, slant things, but he was wrong about the nature of people, we are so most certainly not, slant not, mostly good; and you only have to travel some small bit of this wee world and watch all the vox video you can to know it, sure as pain. Well it was big, then it was small, then it big again. I can't wait for the butterflies, one should plant their bush, it is way utubeable in the fall. I confess to an unhealthy interest in Arkansas and words.

A Long Line Of Niches

That isn't a blade, it's a serrated shin. Italy you've just won the world cup, what are you going to do now? We're going to Lebanon! Some say so last week, and some they never heard, never will. Rocks are more or less impervious, but they have nothing on us, the hardest softest things ever. Trying to kill the god of the dead and ruler of the underworld hmm? They've got to pass my way eventually, and I bet you a saving oar, they say my name. Oh My God! Are you really him? They'll never believe me back home. Hello fake patriots, thank you for the checks, now get your little macaca asses out there and vote the straight elephant ticket. What's that mean to you? Federal state and local: More shady, hidden taxes, and more trollroad gridlock. Services? That was last friday mister, you missed it, but I can give you directions to the plot. Next shuttle flight devoted to destruction. This is gonna be, so much fun. I'll squeeze either, on stopping short, at the stoplight of your choice. But I'm coming for your ass.
Tell Hades, to get out the Patrón and the lube.

Throbbing Song

But that's how I got here in the first place. I urge, West Nile caution, because we can't pass in white robes, but oh do we look so good in tight black. All our stripes are hand shaped, and inner permanent, markers on the way; this is where I stopped caring what you thought, and yonder lies the end of our love. Thankfully, the humps provide distance from sight and mind of, and the thrill of bottoming out
but fast and using the speed of it, to climb into the unknown.

Foxy Down

I want the code to Roger Ails (I know there's an e, why do you make me write schizo?) crypt and the head of Rupert, or all the squirrels get it. You can find them, smoking cubans and back dating stock options, at the russian baths any day of the week. How you get it done is up to you. Apple to pay. Stevie Jobs to dance. On underling skulls. Will you be the first adult on your block, to own an Ihead? It's just what it sounds like, straight hardwired kid. No, not that, which you were thinking. The only thing good about this time we live in, is that women can talk the kind of smack that men always did have and will; some say revert, and while you're at it, bow and repent, don't forget the ring; but I'll tail off on my second semi to say love and forever are not any less a part of our evolution as whatever you
may fancy all the questions and answers to be, and to mean.

Criminy Minimal

Why you gotta slander that monkey? And why can't you talk, well? Where the (in) hell are you from? Where exactly, are you heading sir/madam? When are you gonna make it, past your own stubborn mental makeup? When are you turning from gauche into adroit? The what and who, means nothing to you, so read between the lines then not and clickoff. They care so much about horses, maybe they should take up lobbyist dressage, I have a feeling we'll be eating a lot of them before it's all over. And that goes for your little dogs too.

Lads And Gels The President

The Dots Of Life

Rereading is bad. I think, I write like a drunk or a junky, but not any good ones and I hate needles and the bottle. Drunks think they're so funny, but laughing dead weight on your hip is seldom ha ha. I could go further, but you might need a bucket and a new liver on standby. Nor do I remember, all these stealthy striped mosquito's. They used to be giants, ungainly and with at least a buzzing warning. So thank you mr. freighter, I hope your bilges rot in briny deep, from a storm that wipes the 7 faces clean. What's the half-life of forever anyway?

Fights Bell Sounds

Does your right brain talk to your left brain, when draping the used condom over the headboard for the night? And does it lose its flavor, he thought, that would gross them out; and he could cull again. Sleep well, two times, if it takes you from your painful present, as long as you promise me that you'll wake up, some soon sometime; and when you say "thanks for being there, I'll try to never fall again", I think, "who says all lies are bad ones?" Better to delete than to regret.

Hi Hue Bye Contrast

They get caught cakeside
No air and no shuttle bus
Cows ofttimes stay down
I know, one word. Beaten much? My inner english teacher bar blues, shaking her heads and hitting the sauces, but the broken is better, so what do you know? Just enough to savvy, nothing, but polymath celebrity osmosis bullshit, the junk in that will remain in 4 forever, except for when you tell it in nervous convo making time, with someone you don't know that well or even, but there you both are, and this isn't an elevator or the subway, so the junk will out in twinned rising beats per minute, speculate your own, fill it fire it self suicide and groundhog day; maybe next time you'll learn to make for the tunnels or send out scouting parties for new horizons before the developments or the taloned shadow swoops; mind the poison mate.

Oxygen Rich Obnoxious

Have you ever been hounded by a whatsit, when walking home at
oh dark thirty, (of course there's no moon, and it's 26 miles plus, but that's okay, because you'll sleep the last 0.2 standing up, and now it's time for school) and it bounds across your scent behind you so fast, that you just do see its blur on your turning? Oh again and never mind, writing is hard and cognition a re re wish for dead ideals and ists and better pretty bows for babies with baba's and no isms; thoughts are winged dipped and mostly fried, for eating, words a pistol, that sprays a lot but mostly misses. It was just about the fact that it all goes by too fast and slow to see at the same time, and numbers and even variables for letters can't see it either, for the tail of a cat blocking their view of what really is; as if you'd know what to do with it, if you got it, boy. The la lack of sense is the only hope for hope, emotional science and clinical religion, only want thy tithes and partisans. Now, have you ever heard the howls of the wild dog pack?

Free Basta

Counter fit: You were happy when you bought it. More of them died last month, than of us in three years and counting. The markets and markers, make the men. Fashion is a shiny page empty of everything but wanting, by those who can never have, so it shouldn't come as a big surprise when they call it a dream; or maybe it was just a fax, and you are living it. This was not a slag, though you, may be.

Unbidden Memory

This one goes out to the sarapes of Saltillo, state of Coahuila, New Extremadura. High pressure should move, so why won't it? Don't tell me we are or are not the ghost in the whether machines. Tell me I'm nothing and I was never worthy and I never will be, if you want me to believe it. I won't speak on love, some say it is but a dream, a shared delusion, but I think they need their fluids changed. The poisons are backed all the way back up into their brains, and they got it all and them some, twisted on a chemical stick; and that's no kind of light, in that kind of darkness. We live in the world of the blanched.

Dead Picture Post

Sweet gushing thing, can you give you up? Cause we want both.
Like we want to be both sides and the winner of every argument, well, win or think we did; not that we really care (or) that it really matters. Moonlight is the only balm for sunburn. Rugs are made for pulling out from under others, it was only a trial separation and then you spend the next ten years flying backwards in your head wondering how it all went wrong; and where the hades am I anyway? Tolerance is for serial killers. Anger is righteous, rightwise political correctness another band; not the kind that means forever, the kind that cuts you in half as you grow into it. And other words for censorship.
Not that I wouldn't mute everyone, above the age, of say, 7.

Some Little Dumb Thing

Globe of dogs. Breast pressing Cameroonians. Lebanese blond rubble. Bushkake: Skeeting yourself in the face. Smoking is bad for the heart. You don't say. News of the Weirdites, not very much, anymore; must be numb from tv, so it is good for something
at all. Anna Diggs Taylor, I love you. Bloggy, get bent. Ditto Googs.

A Cable Cum For You

Fuck the NFL and its network, PBS and its begathons, and every government acronym. Regulate? I know a pimp hat when I see 1.

Litterbugging Bastids

Hello? Hey, just wanted to call and say, ha x 7. Yeah I know it doesn't translate, but it's a good fake laugh, or maybe it was the kind you do instead of crying, I can't remember. Anything, except how to let go. Psych? Give the kid a sucker, and he'll believe it whatever you tell him, as long as you stay close enough to hold. I wish Ted Nougat would shoot himself in the head already. Oh, you have your own list. Good, I'd hate to be the only crazy one. And then I look out of the window and know, no worries. Fock the Google and Blogger too.

Gone Mommy Gone

Your pea has gone away. Oops, there it was up a schooled sleeve. "This is one of those projects, that is a win-win-win for everybody, unless you just don't like anything," Gloomberg said. Oh, we like free rent. A persistent and very real threat? Speaking of claustrophobiacs, how's your ass, tight? Jaw clenching, clicking out. Is was a good day. I smell of sweat and grassfires and soot. Red is my favorite color; and the purple bruised one, but just up in the sky. God I miss the rain.

They're All Wanting

The touch, and relief from their own. Rich people don't have porches, some lady said, but I could swear I saw that porte-cochere. This site is past dead to me, and I so don't even care, it is to cry wah, make a bed up, stretch and recline, breath deep, repeat. Tell me in a whisper, what's a good holistic remedy for an ear-ache? No? Dead to me! I peel the bark back to the skin and scrape, watching the sap harden into resin. It tastes like something, I cannot define.

Twenty Twelve Six Nothing

Do my pictures work, yet? I'm so tired, yet I can't sleep for the thought running through my head: Why do women have so many baskets? The weaved kind. What a weird thing to cult on. This one goes out to: The thousand lifetime's in one, accumulation and finally letting go. Run free! And if the choad outs, then run again, but never settle. At least not in love, because these thousand lifetimes go fast, at least when they aren't being interminable. No, I wasn't talking down to you. Yes, I know you knew all of this before.
It's just something I do instead of dreaming.

Nevada Calling Virginia

702 to 703. Will you come west and be mine? Why won't you come east for me? The difference between the leafy close green humidity and the big sky blast furnace, is of moisturizers and gallons of water in the trunk. One has mad scree skiing, and it was the funnest sliding I've ever done, until I landed on that ocotillo crotchwise, luckily it was mostly dead, so I used a piece of it to roll the jumping cholla off of my shoes. And the other has the brackish tongue, wagging to the fresh runoff. After clicking "done" nada.

Bet Or Ask Somebody

What the flashing lights mean. Fred the cat, off the list. The cease-fiah begins at 8am Monday, so get your bombs run and your little butts in bed, it's a school day tomorrow and you know it, nomo Disney! World, a word, I don't want no sheet with you. We truck, because they say so. I hope the best for you and yours, but not as much as me and mine now multiply by 7bn and there you go. What is your culture like, is it dying, did you ever have one? Can you go home again? I don't like bogger, when it won't, let me have my picture way.

Crushing Yo Head 4

Do your attacks now. The shampoo and the water too, Lady, keep it moving. If you live fearing ya ain't living, or my name isn't Engrish. They'll, say this, and Those'll, say that, and all it really means is quicksand. You can swim if you stay calm, claims Buoyancy, but struggling under is so much more dramatic and you know which we prefer. Did you get the shot? Did you get the ffect? Did you get the? Aha! There was nofore. It all points thataway>. She said get over it.

Metro Beeches Abound

From time to time - whenever I consider the extent of homophobia in our culture - I think about making a go of being straight, of meeting a nice girl whom I can actually marry. But this morning, thanks to you, Plastic Bitch on the Metro, I realized why that's a bad idea. As we filed into one of the trains at Metro Center, you spilled your skinny no-foam latte on my shirt and neglected to apologize. Until then, I was perfectly happy to overlook that fact that you were flouting Metro's no-beverage rule (you were probably up late last night gabbing with one of your girlfriends, so I'm sure you needed that morning boost of trendy caffeine more than anyone else using public transportation today). Judging from your appearance, you probably had to get up at the crack of dawn to put yourself together (another reason you needed caffeine more than anyone else on the planet). Black skirt, white blouse, enough makeup to give a drag queen a run for her money, hair pulled back tight: you've got your act together, I'll give you that much. Your look was marred only by your flip-flops, which naturally drew my attention to that tattoo of a Chinese character on your ankle. OMG!! A tattoo of a Chinese character - that's, like, so totally original! Did you think of that yourself? I didn't initially think you looked Chinese, but maybe you've got some trace of Chinese ancestry or something. You can't be a total flake, because you had a book in your oversized purse. Something by Cornel West, I noticed - OMG you must be so totally intellectual! Do you list "racial politics" as one of your interests on your faceboook profile? Maybe Cornel West was even your professor at Princeton (your alma mater as well as that of your dad, and his dad, and so on). Wait - let me guess - you majored in poli sci, didn't you? Or was it psych? Don't get me wrong - I'm no misogynist. I know lots and lots of really cool girls, and I happen to live with two in particular. But from now on, every time I think I might want to be straight, I'll think of going to a bar in Adams Morgan (you probably prefer Tom Tom's) and, because my straight buds are making comments about your tight butt (how many hours have you logged on the treadmill since eating that rice cake yesterday?), going up and hitting on you. I even got a taste of what that would be like this morning. Self-absorbed as you seemed on the train, listening to some song by the Pussycat Dolls on your Ipod, you managed to catch me staring at you. When you snorted as if to tell me you're way out of my league, I wanted to assure you that I wasn't checking you out but rather thinking of ways to trip you on your way out of the train. Alas, I got out before you. The badge prominently hanging around your neck told me that you're a staffer in the 109th Congress, so you were probably getting off at Capitol South. How cool, though! You're some Representative's Assistant's assistant, which makes you, like, a total power player. So that must've been you I saw coming out of Smith Point last Thursday, drunk after two $15 appletinis that daddy's credit card no doubt paid for. I can't be sure, but I'll use your bulging pearl necklace as a sign that you work for a Republican. Which means that you probably don't support my right to marry my boyfriend, which is the reason I harbor these foolish thoughts about getting with a girl in the first place. Thank goodness I saw you!!

If You Are Under 18

Please use your "back" button and seek parental guidance. Craig so funny! And now, for my one viewers pleasure, Stewie Griffin, as played by a small dog in San Francisco: I fucking hate you. I mean it, I feel ridiculous. Get it off. Lady, just because your boyfriend doesn’t want to settle down, doesn’t mean you should pretend that I’m a real baby in hopes that he’ll play along in your twisted game of “house”. I promise you’re scaring him off, and it makes you look insane. Think about it, you dress me like a Gap employee and tote me around like a damned fashion accessory. It’s disgusting, and you need to get your shit straight. Meantime, you can stop force-feeding me Altoids, you bitch. While I’m on the record, there are some other things I could do without, you psycho. Yeah, as it turns out, I don’t really care for the ylang-ylang oil massage. It’s not relaxing, it actually hurts and generally creeps me out. In fact, it’s damn close to rape. Oh, this just in, I’m not actually a fucking vegetarian. Do you honestly think that I prefer couscous and tofu over my lamb and beef nuggets?Lettuce wraps? Are you fucking serious… what is your damage? I would rather eat my own shit, and guess what, when you’re asleep, I do. Then I lick your whore face and laugh about it. Don’t even get me started on my name. Louis Vuitton? You superficial bitch. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is? I’m already wearing the gayest sweater since the "Cosby Show", but you insist on naming me after an expensive line of European handbags. Seriously, fuck you. You make me look like a complete pussy and I hate you for it. For real, the next time you try to gel my hair, I will tear a hole in your windpipe. I swear to God I will. Not that you’d ever fucking notice, but you continue to place me in dangerous situations. Just yesterday at the dog park, I could feel the cold hard stare from a Doberman through my Kenneth Cole double-breasted pea coat. Shit, even the French poodle called me a fag, and he was wearing a beret. Do you have any idea what would happen to a dog like me at the pound? You don’t even WANT to know. I step in there with even a whiff of CK One on me, and it’s all over. It pisses me off that you don’t pull this shit on the cat (Although it’s probably because she’s a lesbo). I am really tired of the smug looks I get from that butch-ass feline. Just once I’d like to see you put an ascot around her neck and let her feel what this shit is like. Then she’ll realize it’s not funny, and I’m in real pain here. At the very least you could throw a flannel shirt on that dyke and even it up here, you owe it to me. I promise I will end all nine of her lives if I ever get a chance to chase her without these miniature Steve Madden patent leather urban utility boots strapped on my paws. Not that I’d get far; even without the shoes I still have to battle these Italian micro suede chinos. Listen lady, I’m at the end of my rope and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking (Yes, there’s a lot of time for that while you watch E!, thumb through your copy of People magazine, stopping occasionally to read the text message on your jewel-encrusted Sidekick). I have decided that I’m running away. I’m going to take my chances on the outside. Tomorrow morning, during doggy yoga, I am fucking gone, baby – and there is nothing you can do to stop me. The last thing you’ll see is my puckered little asshole as I’m out the door, but not before I leave a hot, soft and juicy turd pile right on my miniature doggy yoga mat – and I’ve got a half a pound of espresso beans and 3 bran muffins for breakfast to make sure it’s a good one. See you in hell, bitch.

Smells Like Oakwood Property

Not the hardwood acorn maker, and you know that ain't cedar either. See ya! Alright Mr. Peeping Tom--I am onto you. Every time I head out to my tiny balcony to have a smoke (which is quite often as I am only in Virginia as a Consultant and am living in a boring corporate apartment) I hear your sliding glass door open below me. Now, I think I have heard this for a while but didn't think much of it. After all, I am just now getting used to all of my corporate-apartment-complex sounds and people do, in fact, open their doors occasionally. So, a few nights ago I notice this door-opening sound (as I am in my usual lounging attire of men's boxers and tank top with ummmmm... no undies) and thoughtfully think, 'Oh no--maybe the guy below me is bothered by my smoking..' so I look down through the deck slots and see you standing below me..... LOOKING UP MY SHORTS. After my head snaps up and (i'm pretty sure) my eyes bug out--I cannot believe what I have just seen so I lean over, squinting to try to focus through the narrow spaces, but you have darted (appropriate creepy word) back into your apartment. WTF?! My mind races to calculate exactly how many smokes I have had over the last 3 weeks (OMG) and how often I am wearing my lounging shorts with no undies (OMG, OMG)and how many times I have passed you on the sidewalk, smiled and said hello while carrying groceries (OMG, OMG, OMG) and all the while-- for some sick reason-- feeling totally mortified that I have not had a bikini wax in as long as I have been here. I catch myself actually feeling embarassed that YOU, creepy guy, might think that I have less-than-ideal grooming habits. So thanks to you, Mr. Peeping Tom, I now have to wear underwear when I don't want to AND look like a jackass pinned against my wall with my legs clamped shut every time I want to poison my lungs. Thanks a lot.

Drunken From Thine Craigchives

Last night my girlfriend came home earlier than she ever has and caught me, naked, watching porn, and stroking it with a mask and snorkel on. There's not really much to say at that point. She walked right past me and went into the bedroom. I quickly turned the porn off, put on some pants, and took the mask and snorkel off. Five minuets later she came out of the bedroom and asked how my day was... it was like she didn't just catch me throttling myself with a mask and snorkel on. The rest of the evening went as normal. We had baked chicken and green beans for dinner and then watched the Simpsons. I don't really don't know what else to say. Five minuets in five minutes, no doubt? The mask and snorkel do'wha for you again?

Your Feckless Koi Upset Me

No, I didn't participate in the chat below, not that anyone asked for clarification, but while I'm discussing it in my head with you, why ya'll gotta be like that? Ha sectarian ass bad words deleted to save myself ha. It is the lowest common denominator wars, and how low can you go? Vulgar fractive, activate. Very. I could go on and on, but this
isn't what I get laid for. That, is for being very, very, good.

Heaven Is A Buck

That got stuck, on the freeway. Long Island's got that backstrap, a belt and a sun, a long line of broken promises, and domesticated ennui; and I'll always love it for looking up backwards once to a sound, and damned if it wasn't the Concorde, seeming about
100" over my head and then, gone. You can have the 7m+.

Scheduled Outage At 4:Ever

They scream "Ish tha corporations." If your cable provider is Concast, welcome to the Time Warper, "Stay bent over, yeah, just like that." Enjoy the ride. I say, fucking. Player? Hater? Sunstroked? You betcha. TXU owns your ass like Exxon. Mobile? Not so much now. The trains slow here and there, watch out for the dicks. Water is expensive, but not like the small print lower lines on the invoices. Privatization.
Say it. Say it! Watch for the wheels or not, at your leisure.

Nutters United Under A Fool Moon

nigs_ruined_the_usa: DO THE FACTS UPSET YOU
scarlet_creation: lol
Fred and Gingivitis: Your fucking caps upset me.
u.i_samuel: Prince is in.
sickboyiii: lol
nigs_ruined_the_usa: WHEN PEOPLE CANT RESPOND TO FACTS, THEY CHANGE THE SUBJECT OR GET EMOTIONAL
sickboyiii: greetings SAMUEL
Fred and Gingivitis: Not to mention your lack of punctuation.
an_epitaph_for_my_heart: you can't get hummus without mashing some chickpeas... HAHAHAHAHA
whatisdoc: hey "nigs,”, whenever you see a black person, what goes through your head?
count_iggula: oh, the prince, god's gift to women, we must make way
knighted_saint_xxiiiv: mostly Aisians
an_epitaph_for_my_heart: one would think African women would have bigger tits, but they dont.
Fred and Gingivitis: You're less than three?
nigs_ruined_the_usa: WHEN I SEE A BLACK I WONDER ...IS HE A COOL DUDE OR A VIOLENT CRACKHEAD
whatisdoc: it’s because of racist bitches like you that the black community is at a disadvantage
an_epitaph_for_my_heart: Yes
count_iggula: when i see a black woman, what goes through my mind-- wonder what she looks like BUCK NAKED
u.i_samuel: NIgs,you are an idiot.
scarlet_creation: nigs, what's wrong with your attitude is you think white collar crime is better than violent crime
u.i_samuel: Exactly,count.
an_epitaph_for_my_heart: Me too Igg
Fred and Gingivitis: Those being, of course, the only two categories that black people fall into. 'Cool dudes', and 'violent crackheads'.
knighted_saint_xxiiiv: they have BOO-TAY
whatisdoc: white racist motherfuckers. people who may really be good people, but when they see a different color their heads change
jung_at_heart2003 joined the room.
count_iggula: but some have better boo tay than others, mmmmmmmm
u.i_samuel: VEXY
para_universe_explodes: what is Boo-tay, good for anyway
nigs_ruined_the_usa: WELL, HOW COME MEXICANS COME TO THE USA WITH NOTHING, NO ENGLISH SKILLS, THEY MAKE 20 BUCKS AN HOUR WORKING ON SKYSCRAPERS, WHILE NIGGERS SIT OUTSIDE BEGGING FOR BEER MONEY
sickboyiii: lol
Diabolique: Sexy Vexy, welcome to hell, here's your accordion.
Inadvertent Sabotage: *grins* Samuel, what a pleasure to see you.
Inadvertent Sabotage: *giggles*
Inadvertent Sabotage: Thanks, Dia, darling.
u.i_samuel: LIKEWISE.
count_iggula: boo tay good for admiring and polishing
sickboyiii: wb SABOTAGE
Inadvertent Sabotage: What's with the caps today?
scarlet_creation: i don't think the majority of illegal immigrants are working 20 bucks an hour
Diabolique: haha
Inadvertent Sabotage: Thank you, Sickboy.
Diabolique: good question
lnvisionary: Accordions in hell?
sickboyiii: hi INVISION
nigs_ruined_the_usa: SEE, YOU ARE TRYING TO PLAY THE GUILT TRIP ON ME, BUT I KNOW MEXICANS WHO MAKE 20 DOLLARS DOING CONSTRUCTION, THEY JUST CAME TO AMERICA
count_iggula: we need to get more boo tay working
whatisdoc: 20 bucks an hour, unskilled labor. . . gimme that job
an_epitaph_for_my_heart: Wow... I'd be an illegal immigrant for $20 an hour
u.i_samuel: Dia is here....great.
Meera (sparkle_jain) left the room.
nigs_ruined_the_usa: BUT THE NIGGERS STAND OUTSIDE THE JOB SITE BEGGING FOR BEER MONEY
Diabolique: samuel... do I sense sarcasm on your part?
Fred and Gingivitis: It might be unskilled, but it's hard work.
nigs_ruined_the_usa: NO THEY ARE VERY SKILLED
lnvisionary: I only thought there were worms that never die that feast upon your rotting soul as your tongue cleaves to the roof of your mouth as the smell of your flesh burns in hot burning sulpher.
whatisdoc: that’s what i mean
Capt Howdy: OY YEAH ITS IRAN
Diabolique: Invis!
scarlet_creation: nigs, so you know a few making 20 bucks an hour. you really think they are representative of illegal immigrants?
Diabolique: yuck.
sickboyiii: <<<<<kanishka505: invisionary what is this rubbish
sickboyiii: 20 bucks an hour
whatisdoc: fuck it. i need some money
sickboyiii: sounds nice to me
Capt Howdy: I LOVE HOW WE FOUND ALL THOSE WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION
an_epitaph_for_my_heart: The only reason America doesn't like illegal immigrant labour is that it robs them of the chance to round up a group of ethnic non-English speaking natives and force them to work hard for little reward.
Inadvertent Sabotage: *waves at Starry*
Capt Howdy: ISNT THAT WHY WE WENT THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE
u.i_samuel: L.O.L CAPT.
nigs_ruined_the_usa: THE FACT IS THAT NIGGERS COMPLAIN THAT NOBODY WILL GIVE THEM A CHANCE, BUT THEY SIT AROUND GETTING DRUNK WHILE MEXICANS TAKE THEIR JOBS
scarlet_creation: hi, vexing
Capt Howdy: AND YOU PEOPLE WILL BELIEVE ANYTHING YOUR PRESIDENT TELLS YOU
an_epitaph_for_my_heart: Illegal immigrants are a voluntary slave labour force.
Capt Howdy: FUCKING LEMMINGS
lnvisionary: hi, sick
Diabolique: Samuel! Answer me!
sickboyiii: where can i sign?
Fred and Gingivitis: Yes, as long as you completely redefine the word 'slave'.
nigs_ruined_the_usa: WELL, IF NIGGERS WOULD WORK THERE WOULD NOT BE JOBS FOR MEXICANS
u.i_samuel: Diabolique!!! maybe,maybenot.
an_epitaph_for_my_heart: It's more about making a point.
nigs_ruined_the_usa: BUT NO, NIGGERS SIT AROUND WHINING
dagnee_2002: ok

The names have not been changed, so that you may judge them,
and although they're all just pseudonym's, the crazy shines through under every one of their avatar's. Just like this little indiscretion.

In Out My My My

Trading scar stories with scared smiles. Waiting for the darkest part of night to tell what should never be. If we, weren't so low, would the highs seem as sweet? I don't think so, not since pixy stix. The rushes mean something different now. One good thing is spinning children, that's just as fun to do, as when you were young and bugging someone else to "spin me spin me spin me spin me!"

Yours Too Ma

Yours too.

Die Rolls Die

They like her because she's pretty, and look through you. Until they see the ass in parting, and run to catch up. Hey Baby. Hey. Baby.
Joe Francis gotta die. So I can lives here, in this hacked place.
At this many acres per hour. And this many dead per minute.
This many seconds left.

Faux Manana

I, like do it for the misunderstanding, the west coast and farthest east, and my love which lays me out. I also love South America and South Africa, but not the mad kind that makes you visit, because we are all in and well hated everywhere, just like Visa. North Dakota for its dusty alkaline flatness and Northern Canada because that's where the children will run to, if only in my imagination; what's left of it.

No Más Words

Okay, so I lied. I do it a lot, so I can never believe, you. That wacky green green is owned by ADM Busch and Dow, a blacktop market tip money boon for the southerly connected, and this is still, the most, important thing. So make friend's kids, keep them culled and cultivated. The booty-shake music makes the babies mate
earlier, and watching 'your local news' is a lobotomy son.

Silverfish Clack

Wise man say "be the pestle, not the pecking bowl." Me no listened, and now I am the crunched and rolled breaded fried eaten tubed and half lifed, again. We are the great pasty chain, of germs which do us good, evil is no different from art if you stage it well enough, viral is also virtual, and not only in pixels. Explain the three and a half thoughts in any sentence past, never! I don't know what it
was a passel of; madness catching sleepdrifting souls?

No Blue To Click

Just silver Patron and gaudy wrappers on brown bottles, and a fun time was had by all. Well, maybe not the passo aggro couple. Or the one, with the gf who always gets drunk and then humps a leg not her bf's. And the laughter of women who never leave the bench, there are no recesses; since about the second grade, anyway. And the guys say nothing for fear of saying something, and do you remember when?

You Spin Yourself

A bit of a yob, now something with knob, observe the crux, blaming cobbler, soft. It was a good day to play the night against it, and turn twilight into a place we could stretch out in for a while. I scar myself up often, these are my tattoo's, much better stories, some warmth.