chapter six - postmodernist apostate

Six

6.1

trying to shove each other down the hill into the street and the heavy traffic two words and so many pages the angels are upstairs playing poker and smoking cigars they are discussing the woe that is me dancing for the holiday in France we danced with the muted moon we never break the connection they are being out back together little by little with nuts and bolts a little glue here and there maybe some bailing string songs of the Congo I sit and stare at her for a while and then I will come up with a title a label to place her within the context of chaos all sorts of obscene images come to mind pushing me to another place a village festival the girls dance around the pole offering to the slippery all those breasts pointed to the sun listening to highway 61 I got a tombstone woman clinging for no special reason a thin transparent veil a barrier between us and the world a Jim Beam and diet seven up while I type up my notes from a year ago I threw most of it away it didn’t make much sense any more she said over the phone that it was a delicate sort of problem I imagined that she was vanishing little by little everyday become more and more transparent you could pass your hand through parts of her without resistance I had been waiting for this for years she said I was crazy and that hearing me speak the words convinced her

6.2

hanging jagged there is no change in me a short climb into the mountains the vast emptiness we marvel the past is nibbling at our toes we marvel some more September apples spots before my eyes no matter I stand alone the tiny room with the gaucho lamp reading a biography of Picasso the murmur through the trees the pursuit of nothing when I had nothing to give you nothing remains so vital in our exchange you wanted so much more from me but I only gave you nothing then you walked away once you realized that you would never get from me what you wanted I told you that I would love you forever but that wasn’t enough you wanted something else hammering away at your nail that used to hang your picture on the wall now all I have of you is this nail I threw all your pictures in the garbage I was trying to think differently to live differently to go beyond the normal boundaries of my life picking up a souvenir a t-shirt that says someone was here seeking oz the world had lost all sense of reality I had stepped into the unreal world again living in my private cloud this illogical dream the god of uncertainty snap click I have learned to depend on the liquid and impermanent swallowed overcast sky building a hospital in the Philippines what a nice guy almost like candy apple red a hot dusty wind with a gloomy diatribe gnarled trees beside the road I’m not sure tomorrow I will get it together like fragile animals a pile for the wood stove thinking about insanity how do I know a gentle smile played on the edge of town the truck broke down thoughts about my tattoo gigantic letters on a white wall taunting it is hard to say how I might react speaking of disclosure the words don’t came out I am watching a video on how not to blow myself up thinking about the king the dark side prophet hundreds of people passing through toast and coffee a modern revival opening their wallets and emptying their contents sick from drink and attitude dreams of my past life she was all smiles and I was grateful bringing me the dark words they were wrapped up in old newspapers to keep them fresh a strange witch doctor face  a hater of everything the planes the cars the telegraph the moving picture shows the boys with their red stars all of the penguins in the zoo there is no reason to get all hung up about typologies the witch doctor is trying to hypnotize me he is convincing me that I can do anything I asked him where I should bury betty’s bones he said in Calcutta the best place to bury a body is in Calcutta a nude drawing of betty was hanging on my wall I took that with me to bury with her body I used to get into her every other night and twice on Sundays it was a religion that required practice and repetition paying off my debts one stroke at a time burning the flesh sinking the nails between the bones holding the body up the splendid body

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6.3

standing on my head all my keys fell out I took my shirt off and hugged a passing stranger she asked me if I knew god I told her yes that he drove a green GTO and liked to smoke clove cigarettes I told her that she could probably find him down at the liquor store buying booze for the under aged children he was always happy to give and to lend a helping hand he had moved here for rest and relaxation even though he found the women here a little too strenuous I hated the thought of it he was washing dishes and cooking in a red brick house near a church the church ladies would come over and hold prayer meetings he used these opportunities to get in some vagina examinations he could not find any misogyny in the bible even though he looked and looked I told him he was biased it was then that I realized that the whole universe was crazy abstract points that were forgotten in the rush hour traffic we keep on living in hopes of catching the mix with Tuesday she was holding her thumb up to check the wind her father was a meteorologist for some Midwestern city one with smokestacks and silos and pig commercials on every channel a pork chop sandwich could make her so homesick that and the album by pink Floyd animals AC was a big fan of pink Floyd also he said they always got his juices flowing razor blades and jackals for his dancing penguins the questions that run away from his brain AC can be a cold motherfucker if he wants to be with his pirate hat and glass eye I once saw him eat twelve armadillos AC was the president of the chamber of Commerce talking about the death of the spirit he mentions Hemingway five times preachers holding up cadavers they were sewn together with pride such fine workmanship they said they weren’t heavy because they were brothers still the faces were pale with sorrow I stopped singing your hymns a lost battalion supernatural streetlights trembling before the machinery waking up in bombed out basements shaking off the weary dream she put the ring on my finger and the hallucinations began selling bad theology the charm of disbelief in our hearts our pockets filled with money and the burdens of humanity we cut them down with machetes and pushed them into the vat one by one grinding up into hamburger we don’t care if your life was lived in a cage or a cave illusion is still illusion no matter if you call it religion politics or love they are corrupt and imprison you creating the pool of surplus labor if you become too dangerous we will either give you a job or throw your sorry ass in prison the jail cells open and are hungry for more lost souls

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6.4

the worms of the senses tears for Lott’s wife stoned in the alley waiting for Martha to come and wash our feet I have given her enough tears she hates it when I tell her about all the others there is no electrified mercy the bombs fall from the skies and there is nowhere to run nowhere to hide the mayor is outside waving a white flag and is riddled with bullets politics is violence now you say that politics was always violence the ownership and control of violence those who control the violence control the world they bring the sheep to the slaughter you can’t resist them resenting the fact that you are led by your nose by the vagina and the cock led by your greed and for the desire for what you can’t have a romantic city women standing in doorways throwing up a cloud we were lost to each other as purple dusk deceives the crying of the doves heading east again on the dirt road still walking with the dead AC is buying up souls right and left people are desperate for a little money AC sells their souls for a hefty profit AC is all about the sale and making a fast buck he made millions on the latest banking scam he is listening to Budgie Bandolier and talking to the dead spirits in the room it is time for us to decide the course of our direction living inside someone else’s dream unable to change the direction or the speed I moved headlong by someone else’s power it was as if I was living someone else’s life letting things naturally rise to the surface once again the beautiful woman disappears the man is left to search for her in this world and others there is a mystery to unravel impressions to interpret and magical experiences to experience the magical bleeds over into the mundane world silly madness with squinty eyes your god exists in your troubles it is when your troubles go away that god ceases to exist your throw your troubles at the nearest deity hoping for mercy and relief wanting a cure for your shakes a fix for your hunger creating my doom making plans for my destruction she was making love to me she said AC was leaving her for another woman I had nothing to offer her except confusion deciding things that were already decided thinking we had a choice thinking we could move mountains and slay dragons she said that in the end it will all work out for the best I knew that I would eventually destroy her faith in goodness it would take some time but I would eventually wear her down I was soon becoming her only friend and she always fucked her friends we crossed the groaning abyss she was trying to invent the wheel I told her it had already been done but she wouldn’t listen leaning over my shoulder her hot breath on my neck she wanted to show me her plans they were very detailed and intricate I examined them very closely I didn’t want to miss anything crippled by the salute disarmed by my wicked smile I am climbing up her back she wants to sit upon my throne and worship at my altar steady and loud I am familiar with her ambition and her emotional diplomats a poor little lump of metal we feel the other world hexed by the sine wave the divine science a being like us the seven visible orbs mercury and the right brain the messenger of the gods spiritual psychic and matter a fiery ball of hydrogen decoding the puzzle sitting on the edge of the world a correlation between the sky and the ground a knowledge of heaven the pattern of our life the significance of small moments moving by the eternal spirit of reason marveling at nature’s works putting the stars into flight impressed upon the human constitution it comes from the center the sun on its angle very precious days everything comes back into balance the blossom into the land of god celebrating the birth of spring the first full moon there once was only the virgin and she had no scales to weigh the worth of humanity interchanging particles they are the causal ones stimulating the best and the worst a global conflict representing freedom raw and with syrup cracking the bullwhip all tools modify the environment the hammer modifies the nail dealing with the darkness inside one glorious voice a big giant floater endorsing your autonomy

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6.5

everything is multiple not trying to be vague about your decision making power we are to be understood I can’t talk about it right now getting a head of self seasonal affective disorder a cosmic order where are you looking are you looking in the wrong way looking through socio-cultural context thinking about what you have been told pointing towards the rising sun we walk between the two pillars provisions and the weathering flying in your helicopter three million stones the feminine adds gives balance to the year a creational wave light is spirit the spiral and the serpent seven serpents spiral the feathered serpent a disc and the wings spiraling through the milky way sin is the fact that we have entered the material world we have entered the sine wave the cause is the spirit the first ring the soul is descending going through polarizations acquiring the atomic nature being hexed in matter chronology time born into time seven liberal arts the general has seven sons and seven daughters and ten horns sprout from his head thus we have 24 hours the inferior world that goes up to heaven below the sun is the infernal world seven is the physical in the kingdom of Satan accumulating the seven vices he blinds our minds we all become ethereal as we ascend from the womb to the tomb they are both the same it is a spiritual story I have left you behind in prints and postcards in old letters with yellowed pages in the notes that I kept concerning your behavior the end is never the except a new beginning traveling back into the heavens she walks like Bo Diddley she would arch her back and hiss jump up in the air landing on her feet it was like she saw something that wasn’t there she could disappear like a cat get stuck in a pine tree calling out for someone to let her down the twin brother of satan would come around and do magic tricks for us he was a funny fellow always had twelve guys that would follow him around it was like they were memorizing everything he would say or do can you remember a mouth so tight like a hunting animal things that might be of use someday the wonderful things and their ending using a piece of cardboard to make a dramatic change trying create a solution I am scarping the cardboard against you placing you in the wind to dry to become a remote hermit an isolated and alienated individual separated from your species being nobody cares pushing you down into the bricks it is not good to be standing on a bunch of stuff looking at you without my eyes I am trying to remember that you are people too am I too much for you I do have my drawbacks killing you with a paint roller going back and forth over your body I replaced the cardboard with a paint roller they both are very good I have been exposed to your germs daggers in your eyes and hammers pounding in your head stewing the potholder and smoking your knowledge of silence with a teaspoon of science taken in by the stupidity watching the cranks on the internet listening with our emotions with our guts destructive guts patriotic guts they are making a statue of my guts and then there are nuts they can never get enough nuts blowing them up and filming it for tv we are all entitled to an opinion about nuts appeal and claims about my nuts appealing to the emotions of my nuts the train wreck of my nuts my nuts have earned respect bow down and worship them and their idiotic musings enjoy the stupidity of my nuts repeating the same lies to the power of zeitgeist

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6.6

I am convinced of the truth of my nuts the immutable word surviving the products an incredible organ pulling off your puzzle pieces gluing the metal to the side of your face they blend into your face lonely lumps of metal traveling through space and time occasionally we crash into a planet or an asteroid eventually we burn ourselves out becoming nothing becoming one with the deep dark space each of us locked up in our own prison living in our own hell a hell that we have constructed for ourselves what does it say about a society when we lie to children every chance we get did we inherit a tradition of lies from the past what other lies are we telling ourselves is the foundation of our existence based upon lies why are lies so predominate in our culture it seems that the bigger the lie the greater the success and prestige of the individual lies lies and more lies we have them piled up to our ears tickling our ears our life is a big fact fucking lie everything is a lie I am the gate that stands before you I am the lie I am the darkness no one passes go no collects 200 dollars no one wins in this game the cards are stacked against you only suckers play the game I could not separate the boundary from the real and what seemed to be real the game creates illusion it numbs the mind characters in a play you read the lines and play your part but it not you it is you pretending to be someone else some people spend their wholes lives pretending to be someone else are you real can you be real can you stop playing the game look at all that you have lost there is nothing to gain I guess it is something you cannot choose you just fall into it you start playing the game little by little and eventually you can’t get out you are trapped the game is now part of you the eyes tell the story years of being lied to and years of believing in the lies of this world they are the eyes of the hoodwinked of the possessed of the sheep as they head for the slaughter expectations mixed with so many emotions fate leads to so many ad hoc conclusions thinking about things differently we no longer exalt human reason there no longer a utopia we live in a world where the tower has been toppled

6.7

your claims about the truth is an attempt to control people anyone who claims to know the absolute truth is only trying to control you scary mary wants to control people he wants to build an army of believers an army of true believers creating little clones who think just like him division is evil thinking your own thoughts is evil questioning the authority of scary mary is evil continue telling him how great he is how smart he is we have dethroned the declarative sentences life is uncertain your conviction shows your desire to build a religion you are the high priest of aggressive bullying nonsensical bullshit must not structure must not be the genesis an oversimplification thus creating doubts in my mind you try to contain all of us but this containment shows the evil in your heart we are deconstructing you we reject your meta-narrative a community of sycophants kissing your ass I am just identifying the differences between you and me a greater shadow that cannot be experienced the ability to understand what is different the psychics are wrong married at 19 I must have been twenty younger than 27 never liking the concept of best friend the things that I carry with me in the Midwest not being in your place I doubt that it can be missed she loves the buffalo as they graze in the backyard she wants to live on the back of a buffalo she once fell in love on the back of a buffalo so she wants to spend the rest of her life on the back of the buffalo as they graze in my backyard there is love on the back of buffalo I am alone in my house alone with the books and the words that haunt me missing the foundation your foundation of lies the emotional requirements never coming to the same place I am wearing a new pair of leather gloves the leather gloves are wearing me I am becoming a pair of leather gloves the leather gloves are becoming me my fingers grow into the leather my fingers breathe in the leather the rabbit fur and I are one we coexist in the same world we all live in a ghost town we watch the tumbleweeds as my fingers cry out oh my god where is the justice there is no justice for a pair of leather gloves there is no justice for my fingers no justice only rambling tumbleweeds the buffalo eat the tumbleweeds the buffalo don’t believe in scary mary they believe in leather gloves and the invisible hand of the market just like Mr. Perry he believes in faith he thinks that faith will get him elected he thinks faith will give him prestige he thinks faith will give him power Mr. Perry wants power most of all we should be concerned about his wanting power this could be a problem for us all we need someone who can see the future to see if Mr. Perry is the one who will blow up the world all of the buffalos all of the leather gloves and scary mary and his religious followers they will get their wish to not exist boom says Mr. Perry let us blow it all up we will do it for jesus and his brother AC they are placing bets on when it will happen scary mary doesn’t believe in jesus he only believes in AC I believe in eternal ignorance and a woman who rides the buffalo I watch her on my video screen she has a pleasant smile her smile says trust me I’m as insane as you maybe even more she stopped my shoes dead in their tracks squeaking like a melon salesman with hieroglyphic meanings trying to get the message out about the new world order and the illuminati they were taking over the toaster and the refrigerator magnets of jesus as he was walking on the water speaking to the buffalos about the new Jerusalem god damn am I hallucinating or is this a rerun of I love lucy and I’m the guest in this episode about a cocktail waitress that believes too much in salem cigarettes burning all the witches in new York city while they worship the pagan mary and send their stickers to little bo peep since she lost all her sheep in the meat packing industry while making her pornographic video

6.8

breathe mother fucker breathe in the holy ghost and the burning picture of Spiderman as he hangs from her wall the flames leap so high we are all so high and pagan mary is afraid that she won’t come down the superman sent me a hit of acid in the mail I swallowed it and settled in for the ride she took the play to a strange place when she suggested that we kill the author that we each write our version of the play and perform them simultaneously I pulled out a dictionary from my backpack and looked up some big words we are hidden beneath our constructions we deceive each other into thinking that we live a linear existence we ignore the spirals of life professing our literary ideas upon the woman the destruction of her voice we destroy her point of origin we make her a prop in our play she stands upon the stage unfeeling we cannot feel her we cannot swallow her up and take her inside us we expand to include her yet she stands apart we participate in her death we remove her from the dialogue and make her a potted plant to be moved from scene to scene when the lights go down she ceases to exist we shut the doors of the auditorium and turn off the lights and she fades into the nothingness centered upon my life my tastes my passions I have become objectified to myself all of my failures is the result of who I am as a man we link the biography with the words of the author they become one the words of the man becomes the man and the man becomes his words pardon my male centric writing the explanation of my words is sought in the biography of my life we are supposed to live our words and when we don’t the audience forces our lives into the mold of our words we write of death because we seek death we write of abuse because we have been abused we write of love because we have loved the simple mind seeks to reduce the complexity into small bits that can be understood they assimilate the small bits and leave the large bits to rot like forgotten dead flesh it is all because of our mothers they fucked us up like an average dumbass a stock photo of your scissors we have left you to yourself to cut your hair and save the clippings using them in your ritual of love casting a spell on me the pottery is unfortunate making me happy a shady piece of crap don’t get it twisted partner I am out here to expose the truth we are all friends here a force from nature obfuscate the truth she walked in and thought I was dead round characters and flat characters you weren’t keeping track of the score your voice floating through these steel walls

6.9

assassinate the perfection kill the rejection pull it out of your pocket and flash it all around this aint money this is a fantasy land I’m sending to you so you can see it identify it place it in a police lineup the man is threatening me with incarceration with impossible dreams of leaving the jungle of someday walking like a free man with no scars upon his conscious I have washed your blood from my hands I have cast my lot with the Romans we pulled your temples down we sold you to the nearest merchant he hung a sing around your neck advertising your price how much for a piece of leg how much for a sniff of her tail a walk in the park the demons speak of your worthiness not wanting to speak bad of the dead all of your lovers lined up to cry by your body I was surprised how well they stitched you together the steel wheels did so much damage cutting you in two snidely whiplash would have been proud of my work the knots were tied with such love I was making a sacrifice to the gods of industry feeding the fires of the locomotive she is posting her outfits separately the first time her legs have been aired out in weeks she emphasizes a life of passion go to work mow the lawn feed the children marginalized through the mundane doing those things that have to be done running from the Republicans as they shout at you over the television screen counting the heads sitting in the church pews changing the spare tire a miserable creature fate leads me to conclusions ad hoc conclusions an island I never heard of before innocent goats and their collective sleep the outstretched hands of the melancholy priest thinking about the words he has put down on the page their resonance to his life in this world and the next cutting the tall grass in large broad strokes watching the clouds for a sign an indication for the direction of fate how it will influence the totality of our misunderstandings I thought about you and my thoughts turned out to be wrong you didn’t fit my little definition of the world you showed me that I need a bigger definition in order to contain you there is this possessive tendency again the desire to own something to possess something or someone is this capitalism or is this patriarchy telling them to get in line with the rain and the loneliness they want to be just like you to smell like you to talk like you to walk among the devastation like you entering the world of dreams and never being brave enough to venture out to be lost in the dream world is easy just ask AC he will tell you he lives constantly in a dream world so does scary mary he dreams of a world without birth with no growth no pain no suffering

6.10

but he can’t see that this world would be a world without purpose we were the only riders familiar like my beating heart flicker bastard and burn out extinguish your flame drink until you are full murder is never far from my lips the blood and raw cabbage across the table there was no point in hiding the animosity she referred to herself as small she said that coffee in big cups made her jittery she made a point of showing me that she didn’t wear a wedding ring her words were smooth like butter I wanted to roll her up in the egg wrapper carry her under my arm like a newspaper sneaking her into my hotel room she said her shift began at midnight carefully folding her blazer over the chair  her smile was the sexiest thing about her I found myself being hypnotized by her eyes she would bend over and show me her puffiness a shark came to the water’s surface going insane I couldn’t think about how to respond there is glass in my throat where did this come from no promises about the grime and torture broken electronics I can see the bleeding feet walking down the hateful path I cannot step away from your crucifixions daily we hang you up this cross and then throw our meat and potatoes at you this aint life or death this is a dream an order of nachos at taco bell it is all unacceptable living in the futility alive in the corner of time comforted by all the bullshit kind of relapsing the skin burned off an alien virus rip your heart out and eat it with cornflakes watching you explode a Paraguayan revolution she is making the connecting flights for her and her little sister they got on the plane and we never saw them again their father hired a detective to search for them they disappeared somewhere in the jungles of south America washing clothes and cooking food for the revolutionaries she is talking about the pips and mixing drinks for major hot lips her specialty is fish tacos maria complains about taking finance she is showing me her working in progress patterns out of the snow stepping like an animal she is tracking her prey hunting for the kill her dreams are so bright that they blind me she is too busy watching Mr. snow to understand the totality of the doom she is dripping from the roof onto the plants building robots for the stupid republicans I don’t want her to change I want her to stop building the robots stop making fires so that someone has to put them out disappointed by your rhetoric your ranting on things you don’t understand how can you be so fucking ignorant don’t you realize that buzz words and idiotic phrases are for those who do not think for themselves empowerment exit strategy face time leverage

6.11

outside the box paradigm shift survival strategy collaboration bleeding edge next generation pizzazz real time portal stakeholder quagmire bombing innocent people for their oil and looking the troops in the eyes from the top down as well as the bottom up fundamentalists and radicalists I’m not making excuses they like chaos they like to create chaos satisfied with killing and violence go back to bed you are free to do as we tell you bordering on political hate speech we have work to do reaching out to people who share our goals a trifecta of evil at the racetrack a big spike into the side of your head should do the job I have her a suggestion that she should sit and spin we do not give our agents the impression of belonging there is nothing for you to belong to only the company the company has your best interests in mind the company only wants what is best for you do not question the policies of the company do not question the company’s decisions all decisions are for the good of the company the interests of the company are greater than your interests your purpose is to serve the interests of the company when the company no longer needs you then you will be thrown away you will gladly accept the disloyalty of the company the company expects you to be loyal but the company does not need to be loyal to you the workers are just pieces of shit that the company extricates from its bowls whenever it is necessary follow your instructions at all times never question what you are told gladly obey and do what you are told the slight incline of the hanged man swinging back and forth with the corporate logo even in death you serve the company your flesh is boiled off your bones and served as soup in the company cafeteria the dead feed the next generation of happy workers it is your duty to god and country to be a happy worker your corporate masters will take good care of you it make take some personal humiliation and sexual mental and physical abuse but your masters work long and hard and a little exploitation should be expected to make the company run along smoothly Mr. snow you ignorant slut stop trying to suck each and every republican cock why are you such a political slut setting buildings on fire you say it is because of love there is too much love in your heart so it comes out in tragic ways a cultural dead zone you discovered it with a bent wire another day for the corporate giant pray for your bottom line ask the invisible hand to bring profits your way gather around your board of retards and discuss the latest trend in women’s shoes documenting their time bloody fisticuffs making an artistic gesture catching up to you making all the important lists draining your cell phone battery calling across the pond to talk to the trilateral commission

6.12

they are aiming their guns ready to shoot out of their rickety mud-spattered trucks hobos sitting on crates were keeping the score scratching numbers in the dirt with a stick drinking a few beers saying tomorrow we will be rich just like the big bankers who steal everybody’s money I was washing dishes on south main street my life seemed to be bent and blue and filled with sorrow handfuls I would pick up from the ground I kissed my baby and we put the darkness to the test poverty is a man’s best friend and the darkness is a place where I can make a home the promise of one more swing at the bat I knew my numbers were not coming in they never did and never would numbers only let you down I can only trust in the blood in my veins the pull of a past life calling me back leading me to another direction accepting things that are hard to comprehend I am not constrained by your moral obligations irrational synthesis a giant vacuum on the other side that sucks us through we become small and we are sucked through the pipe of life our past lives all sucked through this long meaningless pipe robbing us of our dawns and twilights robbing us of our cries and smiles I listen to Lynard Skynard  on the leeward lizard the scratches of the barking dog the breeze flows through the open window hobos and punks gather around the fire spark another one bring us another god take us to the other side I went there once when I was in high school and I didn’t like it I didn’t understand the boundaries between this world and the other dissolve I don’t know how it happens it just does I don’t know it might be an accident but it doesn’t feel like an accident it feels like it is supposed to happen like this belongs to me to my life that dissolving boundaries are connected to me it is what I have become what I was destined to become I think this dissolving might be the higher ground the place of refuge that I have turned to time and time again in my life nothing makes sense except this I make the invisible world visible I know this now it is something to do with my DNA the structure of my being I can walk between the worlds

6.13

everywhere I go the two worlds are with me when I was in fourth grade the two worlds were with me I tried to express it in a poem and I only confused others around me how could someone so young be aware of such things my teacher accused me of stealing the poem from a book she searched through hundreds of books to find my poem and never found it she never would the poem didn’t exist until I wrote it the poem was inside me living though me and no one else could have expressed it the way that I did it was because of the dissolving before I understood the dissolving then I thought it was god and I sought after the things of god but it wasn’t god it was greater than god so much greater a voice told me to find love and I blindly thought god was love I had heard it in Sunday school so many times before but love is not god love is the universe love is the two worlds that connect us the two worlds that flow through me walking the obscure shaggy dog convinced that I have made contact with something significant the oedipal story line cannot be accomplished without the act of disappearance someone has to disappear to have to be separated so that they don’t recognize the connection thus there has to be alienation in the plot the hero has to experience alienation he is separated from aspects of himself he is not a complete and whole individual and here is where fate shows its cruel side in making himself complete he fulfills the curse it is connected to the blood the blood cries out for revenge and Hamlet has killed his father maybe not by his physical hand by in spirit he killed his father in the spirit world thus fulfilling the pattern in the material world the boundaries dissolve and one cannot be sure of the casual factors today is Thor’s day she peppers her conversations with woo hippies with hoola hoops knocking on my door asking for a cup of sugar my right arm is holding their brainstems an army cap full of sore fingers worn skin polished stones the swollen spider of reality biting the head off the universal sensuous image an old schoolmaster and bargain basement detergent clear plastic enchantment salvaged Texas on the tip of my dick so heavy behind the dream your fear hides under the trees so as to be invisible to the helicopters ancient cabbage with famous sleep hence the blue equals the red open up your human cage where are you Johnny Rotten can you distinguish the art from the audience an angel of the lord appeared before me and said low they always say low it would be strange if they said high she has come to nail me to the cross again

6.14

she has her tool box with her craftsman tools she has her hammer and nails she is such a good carpenter her tool box is pink and shiny it glistens at me I was trying to read her lips I have worked all my life turning metal into a thing a beauty an expression of my soul I put my heart and life blood into my work it was my pride that rolled off that assembly line so much of life has no meaning it makes no sense it is just things we do to survive to pay the bills and put food on the table boring mundane tasks that we do over and over again lick the lash of her whip her family is pretty rich hotter than all the fucking sheep she is cutting up the best parts to feed the horny Texan the depth and breadth and height wooed by the devil and death camp furnace the skull and the spiders dance while the Texan pets his black and white pussy vegetables and fruits shooting all the three footers music is best when practiced over and over just like sex stroking you over and over in your neat little box we have written you into the schedule a capital shrimp with cannibals who drink beer for breakfast playing at your wooden dildo and smoking Mexican dope shooting our guns you can inbreed with scary mary and produce little antinatalists who hide in the woods making videos for the Gestapo sig heil with my sig sauer a full fucking clip bumping up against her service and Canadian bacon the love is spreading across my cowboy boots the Texan loves his kittens and the harsh realities of the real world you are so fucking special so very fucking special I like you more than all the others you smell so pretty and are fun to play with you don’t mind when I pull out my ropes whip and chains bragging rights to the naked video bringing forth every kind of abomination after its own kind the star of smack down is dead an unbelievable ovation for the people’s champion the rock has something to say about setting your ass on fire I did a video that I put out and took back down the best video that I ever done almost twenty minute of pure bullshit it was the purest stuff never been stepped on pure virgin bullshit you never had bullshit like this before look here sonny I don’t think you can handle it I am watching her over and over again pagan mary can make it happen just like a little kid she is so cute and adorable she puts her lips over the bottle she is doing a splice job I have found that the little things are so very beautiful a passionate talk she is the one to blow my horn betty boop is watching us and she is laughing at us she wants to jump in and help