reuse others

hey my human, hiding in the wilderness
there goes the dinner bell
the killer, the cereal
dropped black in the pond
don't bite it, whistle a tune
whose elephant is this
who won't stop remembering

swirling
long distance
prophylaxis

footsteps towards a pillow
the same soil as us
fought back vibrating nothings
ran away all the same
following in my footsteps
surrounded by fifteen thousand

the most silent
exit ramp, snowflake tears
pained tales, painted lines
neuron thistles

while you make pretty speeches
you're tearing me to shreds

I was in a nature of visions and twisted rulers, the kings of mercy had murdered themselves. And the darkness was coming towards me. The corpse of my twin lay bare in front of me, as I struggled to impale him further with my spear. It was platinum coated, harmful to the naked eye, filled with apple cider. It shined brightly in the evening sun, shined like the universe was smiling upon my murderous revenge. Smiling with hatred, mutual hatred for a common enemy. I had to get home to my girlfriend. She was expecting, and she was expecting me. It wasn’t mine, but it was ok. It was my twin’s. I supposed I would raise him now. I pulled the spear out and uttered the magic words. He sprang to life, and ran away. Next day the papers were filled with my story; extra extra, twin kills his brother, brings him back to life. I went to his house and shot him, then buried his body under the bridge we used to play at when we were seven. The bridge over the river consciousness. A word floated toward me. “RUINATION”. I grabbed the n and held on as if my life depended on it. He never liked that bridge. He never liked the river. Said it was too cold, and despondent. He never liked me either. “I don’t like you.” That was what he always said to me. I would tell him a joke, and he would tell me how much he hated me. I was struggling, struggling, I was always struggling. The “ation” popped off and knocked me over. “RUIN” floated down the river, bobbing and weaving, inside and out, inside and out of the water. I watched until I couldn’t watch anymore. The corpse of my old self came to life, and it shoved me in the river. I went tumbling, tumbling tumbling over a waterfall, hit my head on some rocks. It knocked me out. The next morning I woke up, bleeding, dead on the asphalt, dead in my own skin. I tried to run home, I tried, I swear I tried to run home to you. But my legs wouldn’t work. I was laying bleeding dead on the asphalt trying to ruin to you, I mean run to you, and I couldn’t try anymore. I just couldn’t. I tried for days and days, but I just couldn’t try anymore. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m only human. I just can’t try anymore.

June 31st. An empty parking lot.
                Concrete. Traffic noise. A plant barrier.
                This would be a good place to die.
                If I will it, I choose.

                This is as good
                a place as any.

let go, let go. jump in, for it's so amazing here -
in the breakdown.

May 31st. I was working cahier cashier again.
                Man came in. Shot himself. I was
                the last person to talk to him.
                "Much left in your shift?"
                "Three hours, I guess."
                "Ah, alright."
                Then he pulls the trigger.
                Five hours later, I went to sleep.

Ok so I missed days already. It can't be helped. Helped it cannot be .. by me. Sometimes certain things have to fall away because of other things. And this week, I had other things.



My throat has been vaguely swollen for a few days, and it sucks. It constantly feels like I can't breathe, or I'm going to suffocate, or something. Makes it harder to swallow. And I already have problems with that. Plus, life sucks. And my leg itches. So there's that.

Yourtub video of the moment:

How many minerals can you name that appear on Mohs scale of hardness?

Corundum is a crystalline form of aluminium oxide (Al2O3) and is one of the rock-forming minerals. It is naturally clear, but can have different colors when impurities are present. Transparent specimens are used as gems, called ruby if red, while all other colors are called sapphire. In India a pinkish-orange sapphire is called padparadscha and a pink light-red sapphire is called patmaraga.

One reason I'm doing this is to look at my blockquote css. Dang that looks weird! Probably!

I wonder what the Mohs hardness of a Republican's heart is

oink oink POLITICS

Come back soon I got to be hilarious

Edit: I lost it

Edit 2: Smilers

here l sit
all broken hearted
had diarrhea
and that's the story

Defective fiction is a branch of fiction that centers upon the investigation of junk, usually murder, by a defective, either professional or amateur. Defective fiction is the most popular form of both bad fiction and hardboiled terrible fiction.

I'd like to take a few minutes out tonight to talk to you about the most important thing in your life: that fabric of our lives, cotton. You can put it in your ears on a windy day, or in your vagina on a bloody one. You can make a shirt out of it, and enslave an entire race of people to harvest it to make shirts. And probably pipes and junk. What do I know. How do they harvest nutmeg. How does that shit get harvested. Somebody tell me that. I ate a bottle of nutmeg once. I had no idea the air could taste like steak salt. I smelled of onions for three days, and a priest ran away from me screaming. I also had carrots growing out of my eardrums but that was an unrelated problem due to the unforseen clotting of the east trade winds out of San Diego. I apologized for it before, but I'm not sure that I should have done that. It wasn't really my fault, I was just in a bad situation at the wrong place in the wrong time slot. So the executives in charge of programming my life held me back as a midseason replacement and some people campaigned on the internet for me and I was brought back just in the nick of time but sadly they put me up against a program about deadly poisionous metronomes, so I didn't get good ratings, I was cancelled, and they shoved a bullet in my brain back behind the poolshed with a device designed for said purpose. It hurt a lot but I got a lot of residuals so in the end it was ok I guess. Sometimes I like to dance around in my underwear in a bathtub in the middle of the forest where I tied that one girl that was misbehaving to a tree by her ankles to her wrists and she yelled a lot then we laughed about it. I'm pretty sure she starved to death, either that or she's going to grad school in Milwaukee to become a professional vegetarian. I don't remember. So anyway, I had carrots in my ears because I had planted them there earlier this Septober. You should be careful where you plant things containing beta kerotene. For example, I once planted my dong in this girl that wasn't fond of me and it was full of beta kerotene so they arrested me for assault with a deadly penis. Holy fuck I forgot to take my laundry out of the dryer three weeks ago and I just remembered. I hope it's still there. Yep it is. I guess, if it hasn't been removed yet. I should go check but I'm 200 miles from home and I'm typing this with a hair dryer and a keyboard that only responds to hair dryer stimuli. It's really hard to type accurately, in fact this paragraph alone has taken me two life cycles of a pendulum to manufacture inside my esophogus. Damn, I can really yarn a good spin when I get going, can't I. A word is worth a thousand pictures, so buy a pen knife and jam it in your carrot hole, then send me a four hundred thousand five word essay regarding the ancestral locations of the great shepherd hounds that lives in your semens. I make a living making livings, so don't bogart the paper towels, and hand me a tuning fork now and again. I need a new spatula seriously. Spatula Seriously©, from the makers of Face It Face Masks. Get yours today. Available at all Walbogs. Save a dolphin, eat some tuna.

Since the dawn of time, time has moved forwards. Then again, popsicles. Once upon a starkiss, I ate a tub of margarine. It's ok, it was fat free. And it tasted like popsicles. Earwax flavored popsicles. And popsicles .. are still marching on. This treat will soon be at an end, and now it's even sooner. And now it's even sooner. And now it's even sooner.

Did you ever buy a new hat? Boy I did once. That was awesome. Lost it though. That part wasn't awesome. I took a bunch of pictures of my underwear drawer trying to find it, but he never resurfaced. I wonder if he's buried in the sand somewhere in the middle of a rainforest. I would hate to be buried semi alive in the middle of a dense urban undergrowth that is bursting with pus and looks like Kenney Chesney. I got this wheel implant in my foot and it's kind of hurty. But I can go really really fast on sidewalks, but sometimes I crash into bodegas. It's ok the soda is only 45 cents a can there they made an exception. For once in my life, they made an exception. BUG PISS.

I used to live in the Land of the Dragons. It was a five mile walk to the grocery store, and every so often a mini dragon would nip at my heels, or breathe smoke on me. Then, its mother or father would groan and yell in my direction, so I would starting running and running faster and faster. I didn't have a car. Everything was bad, and the other people in the land stuck together. But only with themselves.

I got tired of living among Dragons. I decided to buy a car and drive to the Land of the Dinosaurs. Then I decided to move there once, in a dream. So I did. There was a ring of mushrooms living around the border, and they were excited to see me. They welcomed me, and patted me on the back, congratulating me on my arrival, on my decision.

Everything was fine for a while. But then I turned invisible. The mushrooms couldn't see me anymore. They didn't speak to me anymore. The dinosaurs weren't very scary. All of the scary dinosaurs had died off a long time ago. All that was left were plant eaters. Things were pretty boring and bland, but it was pretty easy living there. But I didn't like it.

One day, I saw a nacho chip standing in the middle of the street, wide eyed. I honked at him to move. I was in a hurry. But he just yelled "hey you!"

I yelled back "what?! move it!"

He said "..this place sucks!" And he disappeared.

And I can't help wondering where he went. I wish I could follow him.

But I don't know how to disappear.

buzz buzz buzz it's quite a hot topic

that i've got this huge pustule in my weiner

it probably has a billion germs on it




more on it as it develops

words words words USB FLASH DRIVES THAT

TASTE

LIKE

CEMENT

in your bathroom
your own home bathroom
i boned you in the butt

---

THAT'S JUST OUR LEMON POPSICLE DAUGHTER AND HER COLLEGE OF JELLY DONUT HOLES

---

a a a a achoo

Once upon a time, shut up. You heard me, Coltrane. I'm sick as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore.



And so on.

color: left

IT'S A LONG SHOT, BUT I THINK I'LL TAKE HER IT

This burger was talking to me in my sleep last night. It was plotting against the spaghetti. He said the spaghetti was after me, and my pocket noodles. Spaghetti doesn't like pockets. It can't be contained by mere flaps of flesh. Flaps of velvet. Flaps of cotton. There, that's better. Cotton. The other white meat. I enjoy it. I enjoy things. Except this cold. I made love to it last night. I named my comforter "Prince Fartface". He didn't like it. I called him "Farty" for short. He didn't like that either. He tried to strangle me like a rented chainsaw. I didn't like that. I cut him in the testicles. Right in the testicles. He didn't enjoy that either. Then I cut a rug. The rug was mad. But he couldn't talk so I couldn't tell. Maybe he enjoyed it. I doubt he enjoyed it.

Back to the spaghetti. Lets not. I'm hungry. I want some texas toast. What do they call it before it's texas toast. Before it's toasted. They call it texas toast. They don't call it texas bread. They start calling it toast immediately. That's not fair. That's not fair to the other toast. Why do they have to do that. Maybe I want a peanut butter and jelly texas sandwich on regular bread that isn't toasted. Maybe I'm on a no toast diet. But no. You can't do that. That's not allowed. You have to toast it or the universe will go haywire. The universe will go haywire and a nebula will rape a quasar and the poor little quasar will cry and cry and cry until it grows up and is 25 and yells at me on a date. I can't help it. I'm sorry. The light from you just got to earth from billions of years ago. Give me a break. Here we go. Nachos. They taste too nachoy. Hey that's not a word, said the quasar. Then she threw a vase at my head. It hit me in the head, and I died, possibly. Then I ordered a taco. Taco taco taco taco. They brought two of them. I had to call them back and ask them to pick up the extra. I didn't want to be a cheat. But they said it was ok. I said no it's not ok. You brought me an extra taco. I didn't pay for this taco. You're running your business into the ground. I don't want to be arrested. I don't want to be arrested for stealing a taco. I could have paid for two of them. I just didn't feel like eating two of them. But they said it was fine. They didn't want to deal with it. It wasn't fair. They didn't want to deal with my second taco. Sometimes it's too much. Sometime I hope I find someone. I hope she will pay attention to my extra taco. That's all I ask. That's all I really want.

nothin else to post, soooooo ... we doin this.

June 11, 2006. I was lying in a ditch near the railroad tracks when my phone started ringing. It was the president. "You have to come back. Someone stole my pudding." It was serious. I could tell by the tone of his voice. I immediately got back on my unicycle and hurried back to the lodge.

It was 3:06 pm when I walked in the door. He was standing on the bar, scowling at the doorway. I knew he was waiting for me. "What took you so long to get here? The perpetrators are long gone by now."

"I ride a unicycle."

"Oh. Right."

He walked out the door. No one has seen him since. But before he left, he asked me one last question.

"Do they have Europe in Christmas?"

I think he meant Christmas in Europe. I couldn't answer. I had already passed out behind the pool table. They found me two days later, covered in urine. There were no survivors.

The funeral was on a Wednesday. It was cloudy outside, but not raining. 40 degree temperatures. I had some kielbasa. Tasted ok. Maybe a little old is all. I think I'd like some fudge right now. Or maybe a sundae. No, tomato soup. Yeah, that sounds better.

I've been having real bad dreams lately. Kind of worries me. Then I get wasted, and it still worries me. Then I pass out, and I have more bad dreams.

Truth is only local to the community. Not the whole. You can't understand a reference without context. Maybe you need to figure out the context to figure out the reference. Or maybe you need to fall into a ditch. Like sometimes, I feel like wearing a bright orange vest and letting the horses stampede down the freeway. Holy shit, buy my beer. It's fantastic. Aged like a fine monkey bile. In a cantaloupe. Damn. You know that shit is good when they leave it in a cantaloupe. Speaking of marriage, I'm about to conduct a wedding ceremony. My fist, your nose. Touché bitch. I'm a gonna clean up this two horse town, and when I'm done I'm gonna take you out with me. Then, we're gonna spin the wheel. And if it comes up bankrupt ... you just lost the bonus round. I'm gonna buy a vowel. ON YOUR FACE.

I was lying in the ditch again when my phone rang again. Then it rang again. Then I answered.

"Hello? Yes, this is him. No, I haven't seen any parakeets around here. Who is this? My mother?! Oh. Right.

Wait. What do you mean a Peter Pan peanut butter alert??!"