MMMMMMMotherfkrs we cant wait but all we do is wait. fyp, built then burnt, dug then filled, phil knows, bob too. but i see too much waitin fer the most, save it fer later, wrap it on a plate and stick it deep inside refrigerator heaven is such an awful place to die. Dont even know what it looks like on the other side of this day, at least thats the plan, stick to the plan, fk the plan, we got a new plan captain and there aintint no such plan about it, keep it changin particles a' rearrangin. shift them shifts cause once ya get a fix on it it seems as though its overdone. begs to stagnate shred up all the fun. death by association is the thing, one outta run from there, keep these walls transparent let the light mix up the taint. i got to buyin on these pictures ya see, the thing about em is that they dont hold no nothin, all they do is morph every morning to keep me from mourning over the god damned wall decorations. one likes decor and all, but jesus christ, never like that. im tryin fer awhile to see how it goes, killin off them intangible tangibilities that one can base any sort of loose association on. i mean as often as these memories can put me upright at times, they may be goin outta style, may be a thing of the past. cause once it gets a cookin to that part of the brain, it tends to stick there, starts with the fussing and the fusing, and it all gets down to remain. accursed associations, they get that tendency to stick it out on the putrid side. SO, whats the problem, is it a problem, ya, call it a problem, so then whats the question?, skin er the fur, skin er the fur, lord only knows, crazy bastard didnt know just how mutated them apes were gonna get, old man had no idea all the frustration he would cause when he bought that boy that fkn fischer price "my first science lab". now they just wander round feelin too much feeling and thinkin too much stinkin thinkin, damn do they feel, whats even worse is when they don't, when they let the nature of it sink in on itslef. want to observe how it goes wrong, didnt think it could be wrong if its going down in the first place eh, well let's not say, wrong, hows about we call it ill-considered, or ill-advised, or ill-judged, or just ILL. just look at one of them fkn house cats, they sure get morbidly perverse, they do, they do, its real, i seen it? seen the whole thing flashin for a fluid slice of reality. no butseriously, i say, im gettin most merry to let the fixed objects space out on me, when this here realm starts a spinnin so fast the constructs just let loose and disappear, its a lot to hold onto, in these shitty little containment units and all, gets a turn oversensitized with the disapearnce of all them damnded walls, rooms, housing complex's, city gates and cosmic grates, when they all start to disappear and the nerves reappear tenfold. hearin and seein this, fer a feelin all us miserable wrecks, spread out across the dwelling grounds, still a good few righteously prodigious universal trippers vibin' out there somewhere, but mostly what one sees is all the tension from each individual unfulfilled glory stickin out of all these starvin little receptacles. i seen a lot of em sittin in there not hearin a word of it, won't hear it, just sittin tightly inside and marinading in one sort of transfigurin glow or another, breedin with the cancers and the bore dumbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz,,
all them zzzz's will put ya fast to sleep. just dont face em with them cursued forgotten dreams, gotta keep em from rememberin, remembering the way their own primordial stink stank, its a good stank though, real earthy like. but just forget it, cause it only makes the insides scream out and we dont want to hear that shit, dont wanna see how messy it can get, kill the sound that turns us on and puts us back in synch with the celestial hum that all this microwavable inferior interference has been blockin out. dont want to bring up what brings us down, dont want to admit that we aint got the drive to get these fleshy weights off the ground, dont let the cold hard complacency sink in. shit no man, i mean yes, instead of no, try saying yes, i say, then turn it off, or on, on is the thing. we'll start by cuttin out all that perplexing entertainment, no more multitudes of toppings, no more baconated mayyonaise sandwich holsters, get done with all them egotistical career minded personality crisisses in group groping civic displays of fortitude, no more superbowl parties, in fact, death to all holidays, no more crystal meth light for the likes of youz freaks, were talking away all of yer internet porn also as well, back to the pre dawn of lyin under the sun with a head full of mastabatory caveman fantasies, use yer filthy imaginations, thats what there there for. no more shiny things, and let those poor organ grinding monkeys go man, you had yer fun, no more gravity bongs, smoke a joint, turd, er better yet use a seashell. too much variety inside the death box, break out, make that the choice
.................. and finally were taking away yer weekends, you people are all assholes, ya didnt use em right anyways and shiny shiny things, was that mentioned, no more of the same, burn it all, no more doors, only outdoors now, go flop around out in the streets, cover yourselfs in the extemporaneous excremental filth of your fore fathers, take out yarrr penississis and vaginaazizz and any other genitals you can muster up and use them on one another out in the open public, tell the neighbors yer gay, even if you think your not, because when it comes down to it, your all gay, everyone be gay, all at once, let the men be gay with the women and dogs gay for the squirrells, now squireels take out yer penises and vaginals and make fun with some inantimate object, try makin time with one of those devious little lawn gnomes for example. be creative. now all you gay people on the streets that are presently fkn one another, one additional announcement, were taking away yer booze, thats right, yer already drunk enough without it, learn to make it yourself if you really want it that bad. ohh, and all those motherfkn taco salads, there all gone, build your corn tortillas and and taco sass upward from your long discarded dreams, theres bound to be sour cream deposits somewhere up in them thar hills. and cut them pills outta them moderating hearts of yers, let them beat erratically. I know, i started it, its ok, im a bastard too, my life until now, has been just a series of moments between cigarettes. and another thing while were all out here in the open, i am frightened to death of all of you people and yer unfamiliarities. Its ok now, im coming to terms with it and thats the first step, now come over here and hold me, now fuck me in front of all those other people, everyone cheer. now turn on the lights and kill that fkn jukebox, you didnt need to hear that god damned bob seger song again anyway, its last call fer yar stupid fkn barred lives, the glass has all been smashed out, everyone can now see your bare asses, go home and tell yer lonely families to knock that fkn shit off, its rotting yer brains, givin ya falsified dreams, chances are you will never be able to suck your own cock anywho, cant we ever just have nice and open family time, how was yer day, i dont know? what happened?where am i? i think i quite my job, who the fk are you people anyways?, what are you doing in my rumpus room? was this just a dream? youve been hangin around me fer twenty years and i rreally dont know, honestly who the fk are you.>>? have a carrot, no wait, im running away from this place, sell the kids, burn the house, shave the animals and send them to the streets to let start anew. i want to be a futuristic telepathically inclined gay cowboy. no more fkn around, seems like a good as time as any to cut off this ridiculous shirad, lets all call it a former existence and get the hell out of these seperated dwwelling portals.
Everyone at once, don't clog up the roads, just walk away calmly, start a conversation with the unknowns aside you, spread yer shit out, yes, thats the ticket, yes, we go on 3, we all go, no turning back, 1.....2222......., fkn, run the citadel is burning, there's chemicals in the air and water smells of chicken dung, quick, grab some good walking shoes, i know a place where the fun aint so sparse and breathable, i promise, it aint just somethin else to do here. we shall construct a lovely ghost town in the midst of this here forrest, and haunt it ourselves, hundreds of tree houses lined throughout, everybody sing, "why should we buy postage stamps when we can make our own", but first put this metaphysical gun to yer face and squueeze that cosmic trigger, a million miles from here, off to the nevermore, now look over your shoulder, here comes the world back to a scary quiet place again, its ok,, it just takes time, or lack of it entirely, just motion and motion to build up and out of this mess. something had to give sooner er later, we cantent not go on like this indefintly, no, somthing must break, but then agin, maybe we can, maybe we have , maybe its been like this fer awhile. maybe its happened a thousands time before, my father said he thought the world would end back in the cold war days, figured something would have to wipe the slate clean, but it never did so they all had to get jobs. why do we still have jobs, i dunno man, it seems to be speedin on up. gettin real crowded here, lots of plastic and more taco salads than ever, i think there was somethin in the bible about taco salads. were sleepin in the tip top of them thar pyrimads as we reek of culmination, flip it over, let it all drain into the bottom of this fkered up hour glass, hell , brk the fkn glass and spread that granular shit back out into the cosmic tide pool of infinitude. i was just a kid when i rermembered to forget, i think i fkd up ma, where the hell was i goin on to in the first place. goodbye sweet dreams, can i still be jim morrison?
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