Thursday, June 21, 2012

sore scrabble loser [1/4/2011]


fill out your grievances in triplicate & file them in the bin marked ‘fuck-all’. yes, I’m trudging down this marrow-cold street for my fucking health. the police may not be diligent, but they are 5 feet away. it’s difficult to know which is more disturbing; the lack of light on the backstreet, or the abundance of light on the squad-cars.
DARE TO BE INTELLIGENT.
many find the dark all too terrifying, while many find the light a bit more than exposing.  chalk it up to geographical paranoia. as in: “oh Christ, did I just pass Pike’s Peak!?” yes, you did. but, worry not - it is so much worse a quarter of a mile from here.
under certain circumstances, Leonard Cohen could be mistaken for God.
don’t try to bullshit me, I can hear the voices in your hidden track. this is why I own headphones, fucker.
clouds pile up as the temperature cataracts down. my neighborhood seems like the 3rd world, but what happened to the 2nd & 1st ? in this country, the lines are blurred by decimal points and, apparently, stereo speakers. integrity and hard work seems to be the gravest moot point this fucking republic has ever known. open up your cheaply made windows and hear the future of our nation curdle like spent milk. no wonder the average age of the 1st offender is getting lower and darker.
“no wonder your kids are robbing liquor stores before they even know what the fuck puberty is!”
retract before the hounds sniff the viscera. unfortunate that openness would leave so little a space to offer.

       



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