continuous chest pains. my friend returned for a bit and it was good hanging out with him at work. it made the time go so much faster. time to write now though. not trying to make another dollar or boringly say that I am. always Metro left wing to and fro.
it is much more important to write theses days than to read. many roaches. dead bodies and alive bodies. I can tell whose voice that is. you survive the nuclear blasts. mark page up in self world. contaminated. saturated. someone, somebody pours a can of paint on you. ruined clothes, car horns, train horns, weekend disconnection, the bridge reads – “it is OK to kill Ronald Reagan.”
I get through my Quark style. mastery. the camera pluralism, tribal. treble.
standing on the way home.
don’t mean to look depressed. he wants or says he wants to drink champagne out of her shoes. man is crushed. coughing up blood is symptomatic of consumption. kids don’t have that in kinder garden or any grade any more. and adults have everything, even the new stuff without names. bones brittle breaking and snapping, a fill of smoke in the tormented lungs exuding off your body like waves from a radio tower. smile, simile, metaphor, meteor. are you burnt out on this yet? meat rots in your intestines. but you like it and will never stop. it is the traditional way of things, like spies spy on non-spies through the corner of their eyes.
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