Tuesday, April 1, 2008

i wanna be extinct

So me and William-Billy LEE are hangin out in the Triassic and he's holding my hand and the sights are cool but I'm a bit uncomfortable--"What, Allerton and little Mexican boys aren't enough for you these days and nights and times?"--Time-travel is inconvenient--you get what you pay for---the X-Acto knife will cut into the inner thigh with minimal pain, and perhaps a aesthetic scratch or two for the sake of design-optional-the irony is rather hilarious in that when you rip off the bandaid the next day you find that's the part that really hurts!--All that gushing, from hunting dinosaurs y'know, they're an endangered species--3-horned beauty on the wall, raped it myself.

The Dead Insect Society has rules and regulations for these things--Please fill out the proper formage young man--I hate waiting in line--I hate doing forms on the internet--I love spellcheck

I bought a girl a sandwhich and she doesn't really care--Axis Mundi of Jew York City where all roads intertwine--Odin's tree--but no pork or sausage or shrimp--It is an abomination you Godless queens--They will never love you--I hope this cell phone gives you cancer--Cancer of the crotch--AIDS of the astral sort--Swadhistana infected with microscopic toxins--burn the leeches with Platonic archetypal cigarettes--mmmm that's a good smoke.

All of my dreams are of television--while all of your dreams are boring--the old Japanese phrase--Don't worry honey, it'll all be all right from now on--I promise--I'm lying--Hide out!--Go away--"In the correct zazen posture the right leg and left leg must intersect the left thigh and the right thigh--no bandaids please--for all is one and one is not and duality is the lie"--you liar--if you see the Buddha on the road than call this (800) number and put out a gang hit on him and roll up real slow at his pad at 2:00 AM and make sure you pop that muthafucka between the eyes cuz round here we don/t appreciate that kinda Middle Path shit--its kill or be killed in this Shangra-La hood--and the mystery is that there is no mystery.

In front of the keyboard all tired we find that parties are the hardest scenes to write-but then again parties are the only places where folks intersect--Axis Mundi--you Jews--and the drunken sex shame that follows may be no fun at the time but its all good masturbation fodder for later--he can't get it up and all the girls are staring and laughing--the standup artist is the highest form of artistry while the artist who sit down are the lowest for of wretch in a poetry starved nation of genius television critics.

Kill the Buddha--Kill the insects--kill the rapist--hunt them--bury them--Sauropods make good meat--but its not Kosher--and I'm a vegetarian--and its a sin--the first commandment says to kill the Buddha the second commandment says to not kill the Buddha.

My morality code is based off an invisible sky-God who doesn't approve of homosexuality or heterosexuality for that matter either--what about asexuality--The Dead Insect Society teaches that you only learn from mistakes, you don/t learn from doing the right thing--Why are we on this planet again--and by this method of spiritual journey as lists of mistakes well then I am very wise indeed.