Time flies faster than the boxcar train which carries a single pupper away from its mother’s tit. The pupper, since fully grown, is now, dead. Before it succumbed a final time it accomplished three things: it crapped on a dress shoe; it caused the spill of high tea in a particular garden; and it yawned as it watched the martian sun sunk for one, final time. This is not a story anyone has to tell, but here we are, telling it as it happened to a dog who we shall call Lyttle Lytton for no reason other than that the “Lyttle Lytton Contest” is the mother who birthed little Ly and we are the clumsy fools that took Ly and put it in the before-mentioned train without contemplating the hurt a tiny little dog would inflict on life in the broad and general sense.
Jealousy's making me behaving cordially: as a way to appreciate your youthful idiocy; a mirror to reflect on my own supremacy- how far I've come & what lays beneath. Yes, it's ego. Can you separate heart from its beats? Of course it can be silenced but that would mean I've made a mistake. It takes all my strength to hold in this silent scream. Yet, you are the one that I pity.
Things being said in silence, you have to be in it to hear; good will & inevitable murders for the reverence of the mystery: in the quiet where life hides, guarded by mosquitoes.
If you wanna see ducks fuck fuck
if you wanna fuck a quack quack duck
if you see the ducks fuck & wanna fuck a duck
go gawk at the quacking fucking ducks.
I want to lick the squirrel's butt. Follow the flickering tail to the acorn stash. It's perky like a kids' lunchbox, stealing food like it's the best kept secret. Rousing turf war, no friends nor enemies. Ok, you can linger since you're this year's kid. Next time you better be ready for a chase. Oh, they're gone, I wonder how a squirrel tastes?
If by your own consciousness you were deceived, don't be shocked, don't be in denial! In the days of grief, be wild: depression comes & goes (who am I kidding?). The brain is made to entertain: the past is always rosier than the premium channels; but those who pay, will be dearer.
I pull up the panty of shame, splash water of "Here we go again." No bra, no robe the weather is nice for another day of personal makeup. There's the silver ring of love. Don't forget the earring of hate. Oh, an Evil Eye for protection. Don't mind the navel ring of invitation. What should I add to the collection? Maybe an X that marked the spot of some dude that died for naught who wore a rad personal makeup? Need more thing to remind I exist in a world that's totally different than what you might have suspected. Welcome to my personal makeup.
My pubic hair shine like diamonds under the afternoon sun. A mound of crystalized dimensions pointed as one. I thought they're coyote-ugly, the opposite of those on my head. But they really are beautiful & sharable right between my legs.
We make that face, we twitch our legs, but is sex an honest expression? Some say it’s the nature’s way, Someone had to teach the kids the lesson, but is sexual intercourse an honest expression? They pick the brightest, or the shyest. They say, “Hush, hush, don’t fear my penis.” At the end of the day, they turn away & say, “Next!” So, is sex really an honest expression? I have to say, I’m somewhat jealous. “What do you mean”, you ask, “Jealous of the raped?” Well, yeh, look at where they are now, also rich & famous, live in the palaces. Maybe that’s how society function? No? It’s not the way to treat kids? Why don’t we ask the honest gents?
The brain of a melon, ass of a truck, so what so what there's no magic carpet ride. So what so what so what. I forgot the words while brushing my teeth so what so what so what. It's all a dream, no fairness, just sirens, so what so what so what. When the light is dimming, the beer is spilling, mama's crying, baby's begging, so what so what so what. Scan the room for things to take throw away in the next garbage bin. So what so what so what. Can't get outta bed till coffee's in mind so what so what so what. The words & rhythms all in my head they rebel cause I lazy get them wrong so what so what so what. There's a virgin land with virgin lads to fuck & to have, God must've said: so what so what so what.