Fat yes, lets buy me that, yes, over there. At the parents house for the first time. Call me first time online. Check her account first, yes, okay.
Kelly came to the bar, he was not feeling it, he was unwell and unsettled. I needed something, I don’t know what. But she likes me not you, no she likes you not me, I mean. But I come here and the words were good. Nice lights: neon, bar lights, florescent and black light. My stomach hurts but that is okay because this is party city.
Feel like wooden. Feel no words. Now mouths on corners, feel like liquid stomach bile. Full of stupidity.
Fat face with drink. Fake wood bar top neon great smell. We are all here doing drugs great. What is she thinking? Can there be evils and suffering in the world? Yes. but not here, or not physical pain, here is maybe suffering maybe horrific suffering. No persons taking your life. No real feeling of cold and hunger. Here in the west we take our own life with food and drugs and inactivity, we are psychotically bored and medicated to death. Can we compare the two? Is it worth comparing the two? I cannot do it, have never feared for my life, especially from an outside force. For me it has all been internal. Can I compare the two?
Hell presupposed that there is someone to suffer infinitely. Bring it on I will eventually deal with it.
Cold Hard Facts
· I am going to take it with me
I am that much better I am sorry I had to work with I said it teen age great mount Air-a-rat I hate scope of the line of thinking.
Not a bad piece so far .what is the message? I don’t know. What I need to do is connect with celebrities. We have had the past 3 worst presidents, yes I can incorporate that somehow.
Bubbles flowing. Mind racing drenched in sweat toes tingling. Its okay its just infinity. The questions is danger.
Profalatic plane over black and white out for tonight. My ciggy burns with extraterrestrial light. Man at the door enjoying the night. Silver and turquoise crystals down my throat cold tips, then a blast of warm air traffic noise leaving a circular rim of organic matter on my glass. Night time on the west coast. Black coated men stroll down to the underground , creaking steal jarring my mind. The spot is leaving a sound before I see it. Bells ringing their Mexican sound. Where are they going Juan, I don’t know Philip.
At first there is fear. What will happen when the door shuts behind him, will they come over? Can I easily scream?
Car line beeps under my head all night moon is high I can see it through the reflection.
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