Hmm.

If there was a way to escape from this endless cycle of vicious paranoia, self-hatred, loneliness, and denial, I would take it. I mean, if it didn't involve killing myself. But so far, all I've got is a few months of time to waste and spend face down in my bed at night.
My connections on the internet are superficial and helpless. These aren't really reassuring, I don't really let them be. I'm just praying that when I go to see her and try to forge a new fucking lifestyle it doesn't collapse by my own downer nationality.

Autonomous was the word I was looking for.

This seizure is anotamous
How the fuck do you spell
anatomus? Is that even a
a word?
Do I mean to say that
our corporeal lifestyle is
autonamous? Fuck me.
Automatic... auto...
automatic? Fuck
Ah ton eh moos
That's gotta be a fucking
word, c'mon
Means robotic, continuous,
automatic yet not rote
Self governing


Fuck!

An Excursion

We are a comatose, web-enshrined society. Due to our very human
collective reality, we chose to ensnare ourselves with rules,
agendas, propaganda in order to further a more deliberate and
actualized human race. This is by no means unhealthy, but
certainly not insurmountable. What is possible is to flaunt
these societal rules. I speak not of social roles or a higher
state of humanity. It is merely true that our perception is
utilized to conceptualize these contextual goals.

This leads us to a different conclusion. If these rules are
perceived through societal constructs and environments we build
around ourselves, a few can hijack the trains of thought
leading us to forgone conclusions. If one so desires, the
shuddering glass walls around us can be breathed clean of
fog. Our reality is relative, so why not deconstruct it? Look
past these preimposed notions of societal existence: look for what
is never seen at first.

Cancers

Don't tell the world that I'm going home
cause I'm going home tonight
Don't tell my friends that I feel alone
I'm not alone tonight
And if you know my parents
tell them I'll be all right
tell them I'll be just fine
And if you know my lover
tell her that I still love her
even if it's just for one more night

I'm gonna miss my pets
and the relics of my life
all the posters on my wall
And I'm gonna miss my house,
my apartment, my campus
my surroundings, and everything I've built
So don't let me get in the way
of your world
cause I got it all planned out
Don't let me get away with this
please save me
before I try to commit the crime of your kiss

Diamant

Reconstructed the skeleton, set him on the floor
Incisions rescinded and tissues replaced
No lightning bolts, just scalpels and grease
Just handcuffs and a forty four
No Lovecraftian errors to spare
Removed the eyes from the sockets
Replaced conniptions with pure purpose
His skull sloshed with acid
Two beakers full: he shall not be placid

Pirate Battlesong

On a ship setting sail with bitter wind on my face
I will unload my revolver
British troops, they fall!
I'm no privateer, there are no flags to give me fear
Burning timber is by far my comfort
I will set my hair aflame
JUST TO FUCK YOUR SHIT UP

Corporately Getting Invisible

The axis has descended
on poor Richard's arms
He is an unlawful contribution
A meat puppet, a flesh-and-stiltskin
The flesheaters anoint him
With their barbarous kisses
He is amused: their pockets sink

"That girl's ass looks tight."
"I bet I could make it tighter."

Punch you in the face with my love.

Dinnertime!

I'm ready to eat!
I love eating dinner
Especially spaghetti!
With scrumptious sauce
Go fetch me a pizza
A turkey! A cow!
I'll eat til I'm popping
I will eat it all!!

Raptor

She had feet like railways
You could hear the smallest movements
As she swayed

Broadcasting from this little house
The father wiped hair from his eyes
He'd built a bridge for the voices in his head
They opened eyes underneath his skin

A Murder of Silhouettes

I

She pulled herself around on her broken spine. Pulled it like she had a point to make. What her mouth spelled was no word for the bevy of codeine vampires that affixed themselves to her strata. They shivered and gibbered, affianced to her sweet aroma.
"I do not ghost ride the fucking whip," Keats said with authority, her dignity flaming fuck you's. She held the door open as a moth flew in, hoping to meet a butterfly. Keats smiled, she'd seen the moths flutter straight onto the flypaper we'd glued to the coffee table. I sat back on the bar, a coka-cola in one hand and a cigarette and a shot in the other. The medikamenten in my stomach had started fucking with my head. PM and AM were all mixed up, daylight shone breezily in a waft that stunk of daisies. The moth quivered, asked for dandy-lion wine and stuck its nose out for a sip. I flicked a black fingernail out and severed its ties to the earth. Keats got on the couch next to the girl and all her admirers, their suckers praying for a grasp.
It was 1934 and the bubbles in the champagne burst pretty sepia. The ne'er-do-well threw her hat on a rack and gave me a look like we didn't have enough bullets for the proboscis-wearers around the lady. Her dress was almost off her and vodka saturated the air around her.

II

I was a darling number named Delilah at this point, but colours were already more vivid than the Yellow Submarine. "I don't need another," I slurred to Keats. She wasn't actually a woman, but for the sake of moths and the suction cup black hole in the blue dress, we had agreed upon this beforehand. I didn't think I could pull out my revolver in time, and when I looked at it in my bad, it fairly grinned back at me. "Motherfucker," I breathed out.
"Don't you have any less dreary records?" the lampreys on the couch yawned, their fangs bared at my intentions. Keats grinned as she spit out some paper. "Everything here is broken into fractals, ladies," she laughed. "Our Delilah didn't want to pull the be-bop on a couple of swaggerers."
Stumbled over to the antichrist and sat cross legged on the floor in front of the couch. The pistol tucked in my pocket giggled. "Have you heard of a game called Russian roulette, miss?" I asked the fully aware girl. The suckerfish descended on the moth before I closed my mouth, leaving rorschach patterns on the linoleum.
The Goddess shook as her spine ate up her organs. Keats closed the door and turned off the lamp.