Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Littel Pet Shop Kiste Vesuvius at home
I Can Hardly keep still. I do not really sit down. I have this inconsiderate habit - when signing on to AOL - of Immediately Leaving the computer to go Perform Some Other activity, like making a sandwich, watering the lawn, ironing an outfit - the one I'm going to wear - Particularly lengthy or Taking a shit, so I can return at my leisure to Several Minutes Later The Many delightful surprises of e-mails and blinking AIMs. It's wondrous! People care, They really do! It's Like Walking Into a room at the piercing ring of a bell, Announcing yourself with aplomb and turning invisible! They're befuddled, what's this, They ask, Are you really there?? You're not responding. How irregular, just now. Are you not well? You're unsettled. Of course, that's What It Is! It's my mole mid-air, and I eat it on the other side. She finally catches me -- I don't struggle -- she slaps the shit out of me. It's painful, it's cute! She really knows how to give it, her flat palm stings like a whip, a tough girl, not strong, she has brothers that are somewhat belligerent, they showed her a thing or two! There's laundry to be done and ironing, too. She laughs at me when I tell her to get busy. She's insolent! I entreat her with arguments about tradition , the loss of our culture! Where's my Catholic wedding with the bells heard for miles around?? That's a good question, sooo, I take to pondering, as I'm pressing my clothes, giving them a long lazy, marginal press, when I notice the grim acquisition of new and indellible stains. Black, gummy, greasy! This late in the process, I can only bring myself to shrug about it. I dab a little water and press on the stains Them Along with the rest of the soiled fabric. My poor warddrobe, What Drastic perdition! I'm a messy camper! I'm not supposed to show Where I've Been, cause I've been places, nasty ones. My washer's on the fritz, maybe? Waiit, it's an undershirt! The collar's presentable, that's All That Really Matters in the end. Avert your eyes! On the toilet, I'm squeezing out monstrocities! No mere logs, whole cabins! Unflushed housing! The toilet water Will not pierce the edifice, the waves sink right through, all is vanity! This is Something of an exaggeration. I Picked it up in jail, where, i actually smelled Badly Such horrors in a ventilated room. I'm tasteless, I need to drink morand water, my viscera Doubtless is dry, rotten, my piss is dark and fuming! I refuse Singularity, These Things I Want to Be a generational condition, so the old dog Critics berate us all for a Certain apathy Perforce That includes the loss of hygiene. That's your hang-up, people! Common decency! You too? Admit it! We Do not take the right fluids. Juice is ineffectual. Soda Does not Taste The Same Anymore. It makes me phlegmy. It's the years of smoking pot and Continuously hacking up a new species of slimy intelligence, strange cultures. I have a Growth in the throat, to corrosion, perpetual gunk, rust in the pipe system! Livejournal, my account is expired. I Received two notices on the matter. I think I realize what's at stake. It's hard times! Trying, Desperate Situations! MyNo Proceeds to register on Their face, I'm backwards, I get cues, suggestions, now insolent commands from my face! I feel with my face like it's a direct extension of my imagination. Sparked and entranced by passing object and Stock! People inspire the capricious MOST involutions. Oh, meeting people! Nonsense erupts. Understanding ensues. I Absorbed and redact, I Give nothing back, or I give all I can, never enough! I love them fiercely, Temporarily, But I am nothing, What is everything at once. You want to trap me in place! Pidgeonhole me! It's preposterous. THERE ARE times I want to skip ahead and make out with someone Simply HAVING Without requisite to intone the lines of poetry. Knowing no dialogue! A little less conversation! Set-aside the histrionics and charm! I Have This perverse fetish for
Friday, July 15, 2005
What Else Looks Like A Yeast Infection
ss will come of a sudden. A scout darts across your toes and you feel a prick That Is Not Quite a bite, pero a taste, a crawling thorny Dismembered bud from a long tongue. It dashes off to make STI Quickly report with fierce gestures and nervous. As a result, Many More Are DISPATCHED for further probings. Whispered Rumours That There Are your briny muck is delicious; They ache for it. Volunteers slobbering burst out of the den in a confusion of legs and antennae. In a wave of paranoia, you make believe That the Slightest Movement on your bare skin, an itch, a draft That whips the hairs on your arms, is in actuality the stealthiest of Their agents. It isn't your average invasion. They Are not milling around an unfinished plate of food, a chicken bone forsaken behind the bed, a pizza box, discarded Popsicle stickiness, or any such regular beacon. You don't uncover a dark mass swirling around some monument to your carelessness. No. The house is pristine all around, every corner! so they're forced to become more and more indiscreet. Desperation and recklessness dominate their simple change of strategy. They realize that you alone purvey the waste and impurities they seek. Invisible millions in dark recesses rub their hairy mandibles, awaiting your grimiest secretions. Famine drives them to the most foul like humans to cannibalism. Mucus, saliva, semen, blood, juices diseased and menstrual, on tissues, cloths, forsaken by whom? Most toiletries don't inspire any second thoughts. There's a tampon in the trash that will launch a thousand ants. There's snot in a rag that bubbles with ejected nutrients. Uniform march towards a new target crowds crave They Almost hypnotically. You stamp your foot with wild They scatter and Authority in a Way That Makes Them impossible to kill. Kaleidoscopic visions spin. The telepathic manifestation of Their frenzy nauseating scattered cloud. Throttled Drones Are Demanding to action by a feminine brain. With a Disturbing patience, They re-assemble a segmented line, with no semblance of fear. Like zombies, all Who Have Ever Lived Will Have Risen, Are Their Vast numbers and unceasing.
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