Why are you mr. assinflavor notus talkus again?
Where is the rest of the margarine committee? Has the ship set sail for Ickstantilf?
DID THE NASTY GET DONE TO THE PARCH?
I have a bird, flying around me head. It chirps at me and I yell. YELL! It bites me, then, on the ass. I kick it and it goes away for a while, but then comes back with some more birds. They eat out my eyes and I hate it.
Later, I am laying and there are birds in the pillow. They are pecking at my neck. I ask them to stop it. I don't have enough money for all that rent doubling, i say. Ass, they reply.
Great Jesus, one bird's name is Mosley. I have no idea how I even know that. They can't actually talk, even when they said Ass they weren't talking. Maybe my pot roast is out.
I put on a shoe and throw a sock out the window. It lands in a muddy puddle and sits there. Will probably sit there for a while. Later, a lawn mower will be angry.
forcably enunciated
like car-a-ca-ture and e-nunc-i-ate
hammer on the nail head
flatten down the dry wall
toss the hammer in the drawer
to sit there for twelve years
i forgot to take my meds
the nail puller caught my ball
I then pulled the hammer with the door
My eyes then streamed 'em tears
I'm crying 'cause I lost a ball
I could only watch it fall
and hit the floor and make a sklurt
30 seconds later it really hurt
there are no doctors in my world
to reattach this thing
I'm doubled over and bleeding
and now I have to pee
a minute later I hurled
thinking of my crippled ding
another piece I'm missing
i'm half the man i used to be
RIPPED UP SACK!
TORN UP SCROTUM!
FUCKING HAMMER!
HATE IT!
maybe my fish got
a hold of my scales
maybe my potroast is out
maybe my blood got
into the wrong hole
maybe my potroast is out
maybe my stick got
into the closet
maybe my potroast is out
maybe my potroast is out
maybe my fish is inside
maybe my birds found the sparrow
tangled up around the words
maybe my oven's gone out
maybe the ceiling crashed in
maybe the walls are closing in around my eyes
maybe the speakers blew out
maybe the teevee turned off
maybe that mirror isn't really me lookin' back
me lookin' back at
me lookin' back at
In four days, I will be a zephorous contradiction on the index page of a logistics text book. I don't even know about logistics but they have a text book. They put my sleeper in the rat. The rat is mad. The rat is not the birds.
The birds are acting funny now, landing on the light. The light is on the ceiling. How are the birds landing upside down? That doesn't even make sense. But they're crazy, or something, maybe. I might have a toothpick in here...
Okay, there you go. Stick that in your weazel. It will only hurt if your weazel is impure. Surely that's not the case, right?
Down here, I am a loosely fitted jean. Up there, I am a s'more.
Don't take me to the diner. I don't like it. The birds are singing, now.
Opossum:
SimonWaldram:
desiderata
