Sedatives and natural Barbiturates spill into my dreams of when this all comes down on me. gasoline and nuts and bolts and concrete instead of grass what a mess of a thing, toys rockem sockem robots, trailers and he-man and rabbits and leaves and a grape cave, i was sleeping in a concrete bathroom with my head on a blue bag waiting to wake up so that I could escape the white spiders and then the morning comes and the water is on the ground as I step out and walk through the sand and fall asleep face down in the sun, flipping to not be burned, Camus’ The Stranger, spring breaks and teenagers oblivious, no passion for what you want to do only what you think you should do, this place is unreal

i might as well have been every time and place and every person in every place and position all at once as nothing mattered while glued to the pipe, the most important content comes from those around us, read that first

might as well be evil if you keep the grin ingrained into the same lava lamps in the missing transparency that might as well be two time periods at once, two moments, one with an orange carpeted glow and another with a modern room and a taxi’d buck

waiting for a second to do what I have to, might as, well might as well be elephants, watch the little box, watch the little box box pop, I don’t know exactly to do, but I tell you this, listen up man, listen up man, box again, here I watch it fly to the left, I know what thought experiments Einstein must have used to envision space-time, so simple, cow could bark at little chorus of loving dogs, rough riders, vampire fighters and such

kick down, let me see the bars on top and button, the constraint of neon

ape color with pawprint education, same conserved intolerance, beat now bomb up the top, athlete with muscles for saxophone spit, rush and chase him now, the beggar beaten down by the calamity that befalls most men

Morning sent me spinning
From all the weight I’d gained
Literal and figurative
I suppose they’re both the same

Big words won’t do you well
No definition hides the lines
Slaughter my vocabulary
To keep the step in time

Leather and a tree and snow to form a memory, I can only imagine the uphill road, the literal thing I crossed

All alien reptile plant machine comes in between waves of invisible xanthan gummed up works all things in time in measured music of chessboard chemical religion loving death of indecision in distance or precision.

It is similar to the feeling you get when you are playing pool and sink a solid shot, where the cue ball hits direct and forcefully, but stops in its place upon contact at the sound of two glass fingers snapping. The target ball moves by lightning reflex a medium distance at a brisk pace in a perfectly straight line and slams into the pocket with a clap and a bone on bone smacking when it falls down onto the other balls already waiting in the basket. The feeling of a well-constructed, beautifully executed and solid measurement that leaves the cue ball alone on the table like an ivory tusk as the trophy from an excursion to the far east. The feeling one gets when throwing a bowling ball down the alley with perfect swing and swoop, so much that it seems to dance on the edge of the gutter in planetary revolution, but in complete confidence that it will strike its victims with deadly force from a flanking angle. Followed by a quick cut inward in the shape of a scythe and with a crashing blow all ten pins fly apart like they are in a blender and you are sure of your strike and victory. The pins will not be standing back up by accident after a throw like this.


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