the monkey puts his hands in the bowl (tap tap). an atomic bomb goes off inside the mouth of a religious zealot. the government tries to take control of heaven and make hell a better place. i saw a butterfly once, it had five wings and couldn't fly but it could glide across water as if it weren't muddled and diseased at all. in a coffee cup, my goldfish whimpers, gothic fingers and hasy wasty jellybean demolitions and predetermined premonitions made me think the world was going to crumble today, boy were we disappointed. i had expected more color, preferably yellow - ah what a marvelous apocalypse it would have made for a bride. need to glitter up the streets. throw our diamonds into heaps of industrial garbage shit out from machines and blenders; rust and sewage fluid dribbling down the mouth of city strips and mental strip clubs, and club sandwhich blues in small town diners - damn those glossy red seats that stick to my thighs. no one changes the generator, no one fires the manager (or the disbeliefs in our common reality). i'm sorry for not knowing where your hand was. i would like to speak with your manager, the meat's not tender enough.


* i don't use this account really, ever. *