Friday, November 18, 2011

page 7

will have a very bright future I’m sure I will read all about it in the papers they will probably write a book about you shit I can say that I once knew you before you became a big shot it makes you sound dead or something it can be very depressing you and I too much the opposites you see I don’t give a god damn what happens it’s of no use there is no lasting value to anything it will all go up in smoke you and I and the whole world with us the most terrific liar in the whole world going to the opera you are always going somewhere to see something or see someone shoving them in a sack and dumping them in the river standing outside the hotel smoking a cigar waiting for the bus to take you to the casino the whores are all wearing tall boots and jackets with fur on the collar they want you to buy them champagne the best whores always drink champagne it makes them all bubbly we are staking up bricks to build a monument it is a monument to apathy and inertia the ring leader with the killer girls a traffic cop who falls in love is that too impossible can a traffic cop fall in love maybe out of love but surely not in love who falls in love a lot of war books and mysteries taking the book of human bondage off the shelf picking up all the personal stuff my hat for shooting deer laughing in this very high falsetto voice always in a big hurry I breathed in through the gills the paradox I was my own worst enemy there was no sense in struggling I was never a victim independent in a false way bringing me out of the womb everything for tomorrow still groaning with the world’s people always on the verge of making a discovery of finding my way through the mess of humanity inhabiting them out of vengeance the atonement for crimes the products of evil on the track of a specter suffering the worst agonies like an open sewer died of a broken heart a few weeks later I had to elbow my way up the stairs beating sense into the poor idiots the poor bugger was in a trance changing into a uniform in the back room an ivy league fruit holds the door by his first name a real asshole a narcotics dick my fingers touching the shark’s throat give me the hit and I will wear the cowboy boots a sincere little boy look a string of bullheads waiting to be cleaned  my tongue starts to slip as my pot smoking days crawl up to her slit she is a gray ash that I can’t brush off my shirt sleeve her bloodless hands caress my balls philosophy is like a broken neck we creep down the stairs and set the place on fire nothing but bugs burning in the night we are surrounded by magic and taboos spectral and anonymous she sucks for love and money air hammers and steam shovels I’m talking her to mexico city for a vacation she is getting hot and I can hear her in the darkness whimpering when I move in for the bust she is out of control she eats a hole through the wall making her great escape I forced her to commit all kinds of horrible sex acts she could kiss the street goodbye and smile like the Madonna I am standing outside myself watching her suck me bone dry pink convolutions of gristle and bone she works me into a furry a frenzy my larval organs are stirring something is rising up inside of me taking possession of her vagina I am possessing her on the top of the table she begs for mercy from some salt and pepper shakers we are filming her broken lusts she is a nut house cunt she is dripping on the carpet her sex organs sprout everywhere a vagina munching on a cheeseburger she asks me for more pickles she

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