It Likes The Edging

We

it

Men

everyone

none,

sometimes

nonexistent

digress

on?

What's

in

should

was

hairs

call

husbandry.

or

and

and

and

I

sit

feeling

insignificance

you

ever

little

self.

Mind The Merging Mesmers

We don't speak of the dead but if we do it shouldn't be unkindly; call it duality or hypocrisy or human nature and good animal husbandry. Men lie, whether to themselves or the ones they claim love for or everyone and then some Gatling style, only; for every reason and none, to bring you close and then chafe at it or treasure in it and sometimes both; for power in egos Dopplered ponds, all tiny, and nonexistent; street? Call 'em both Fucked Street. Fuck'd. There, I digress, nothing but and huh no how feeling? The buoy I have to sit on? What is that cold that radiates out from the chest? All feeling. What's that giggling through the anger, over its utter insignificance in every known universe ever. Forgive my unkindnesses. I think you should believe in UFO's and lightning bugs, in every thing that ever was once and isn't now but still is and crawls up your neck and little hairs in sacred woods full of litter; it isn't nothing, eating yourself.

Commit To Commotion

How pitiful life and fallible humans that we can't go back and make it right, or never was, so we could get it right the first time; but these are not those thousand possibilities, there's only next. What breaks you down, what combination does you in, do you feel it coming on or is it a weight, suddenly? Can you leave those nails alone? Whence this terrorist cursor mm? Only in noticing. No suicides. What honor. And the clerks and the bag(men) boys and all the clamor cult cry out: The horror, the horror. As the herd shudders against a cold steady rain.

Richard Wright Is Fucking In Heaven

Broke just in too. Calculations to it ten times. Just a snippet of DW. No never mind.

Bullpigs And Ike Greeting

When I'm looking down at you sleeping, with Rosemary riding shotgun, I say it. Now can I say something about fear tax gas gouging? Is there an e in that? No, but there is in xxon, bp, shll. Gazprom I say. I mean G said back the, uh huh, okay then. Worry 'bout your red dirt selves. Speaking of, Lubbock runs red, then it's gone, soaked in. Wall-e doesn't sound so far off but then neither did The Road, wonder what magic we'll believe in then. What beans we'll buy. Soaked in then wasn't intentional but blank it, no double it. They all say they want, truth, please, make my palms sweat and guts churn with the insanity of our bizarre stations, that every medium is just a weak facsimile of, give me that. But anyone who's ever been to holes and back up again knows better, even if they spend the rest of their days grating themselves back into dust. They just want to feel, something. And the others, mistrust the feelers. Truth. Huh.