i connect to my female God; this manifestation of every woman that, without sequence, loved me back. nothing i can do about that but try and stay open minded and feel the love that others have to offer—including those that might have been overlooked; sober women with a purpose—a purpose that, now that I’m well, i can align with
align, dear heart, with me: get [teleport]
the fuck out of here! shift from his ocean
dummy variable with his permission
probably, for me, means something fun
but i have miles to go before i sleep
thus spake Zarathustra, the idiot elite
the slope, out here, is getting kind of steep,
and, if I must say it, you are incomplete
if the Nazis and their speedy pillbox hat
(Is he, right now, talking about me?)
should chew [for us] the unspeakable fat,
Wipe me, young buck, from his memory
It seems that none of this is happening
unless i say it out loud—and then it
becomes true—or, that is to say, a fling
in the ring amounts to adultery
cheating on my female God—my narcissistic self that I cannot help; ok—putting math uncle on hold: almost kept me awake all night; give a little, take a little: but stick to the beat; but what’s that? the beat wiggles a little, to and fro; heart murmur heckler—superfast frequency
you can hear me coming She’s right, but i give it another look—she’s coming with the confidence of someone that does their homework; I see my woman in my mind’s eye, one face of many, do tell, that’s plenty; that one, in particular, is not my woman—not anymore;
deny me, silly, and i only get stronger thinking, then, on my gay excursion; get back here it’s a thing, in and of itself, that we share together
damnation and darkness! saving i release a shitload of weight; fine to be me: take trazadone to help me sleep. my woman is so excited, she’s there, in the back, but my nemesis is making a comeback
nip it in the bud before she hijacks my brain; makes me feel things i don’t want to feel—what’s that? scrounging your next meal? Complicated as fuck: that’s not just me trying not to be gay—everything is simple compared to me
Narcissistic ego: not on my watch! You’re a fucking monster—don’t force what cannot: but I’m telling you . . . but it doesn’t matter, see? Out of my sphere—completely off the books? Not a chance: this love is for crooks
stealing my heart—making me mad; Norway blond: existing, a little, but competing, now, with my ex
Don’t talk about your ex—it proves nothing, changes nothing—you are what you are; if you are good, then you exist; and if you are not, then you don’t. This is basic pre-destination—hook, line, and sinker
I want her back, dammit! saving she’s
closer than ever: but I’ve been down this
road—they don’t like to pray on their knees
As soon as I look, they blow me a kiss
betrayed by the prince of darkness: animal
to boot: monster in the garbage can (white
trash is moot)—on, then, to a happier gull
you love them three buttons to the right
make the Injun crazy with your flashlight
[Indian giver] both noble and abused
you’re doing all of this, friend, out of spite
to get the church back—this is fucking
football, asshole—DC is rough pee
in the exponential function, un-ring
a bell that you cannot ring? Come and see
all that I have to offer, damn small-thing
on my brain—three buttons deep, at
home wherever she fucking goes: happy
without me? but I digress (and, about that,
well, I know better) but no bullshit, see
my woman and me: unravelling, and yet
somehow coming together, she is me
dangerous to think; Female god, let
some other image cross into my chi
Let in Leona—let in the light; RBI—
random blond idiot that I mostly despise
(there she is; don’t speak, dear, to why)
don’t know what i want: except i kind of do
I want my Norway blond to come after
you! Fucking impossible relationship
idiotic to allow this fixation to concur:
Norway blond—bartender? give me a tip
what the hell? man? make up your mind
be alone your whole life—give me that
or nothing at all; saving that’s not me, find
someone else; chopped suey, now, at
the back of my brain—circulating
sensation—I’ll take the both of them, then
why can’t I mix it up? no future, no sting
unspeakable fantasy—impossible to boot!
But I know what I want! I want it all!
Tell me, darling, that you want it all, too!
Happy orgy, here, to freak you the fuck out:
Yield the presidency—be what-all you slew
when asked, dear heart, to come to Jesus:
fucking ridiculous fantasies that would
see the light of day—don’ t exist, no fuss
save it keeps coming up: lonesome wood
to keep a train of thought, you’re in my back
you [bitch]: so get the fuck out of here!
But I teleport, don’t I, to the school I whack
living from the bush—Leona, my dear!