Monday, May 16, 2011

I DONT HAVE A WAY WITH WORDS ANYMORE

BUT I HAVE A SHOVEL, OR CLAWS, SOMETIMES I CAN'T TELL ANYMORE.
IF NOT A PATH,I SAID, I WILL DIG MYSELF A BURROW.OR SOMETHING.IF I END UP CRAWLING BACK IN TIME, I THINK I'LL FIND MYSELF AS AN EGYPTIAN
PRINCESS, YOU KNOW. TO BE SEXUAL IS NOT TO BE ON THE PROWL OR IN THE
MARKET,

YOU KNOW. I MIGHT BE A COMMODITY AT A HANDLOOM EXPO OR SOMETHING,
YOU KNOW,GETTING LIKE SHOPLIFTED BY A GIRL IN HUGE ROUND GLASSES.
I NEED TO STOP DOING WHAT MAKES ME THINK MIGHT BE
DOING WRONG TO MYSELF AS THE RECEIVER CAUSE IF I'M REALLY CLAWING THAT
HARD, YOU SAY, WORMHOLES APPEAR, TIME TRAVELS,  AND I MAY BE THE SHOE,
NEXT MORNING. WHERE IS THIS GOING.

WHY DOES IT ALWAYS END IN EUPHEMISMS
FOR WHERE IS THIS GOING
(BEING BLATANT FOR THE FIRST TIME
IN A MILLION WORMHOLES)
BECAUSE ITS TOO DARK IN THE BURROWS, AND I REALLY
CAN'T TELL.

1 comment:

Jay Niner said...

good lord, but this was really something. Please, do keep this up.