Neatest and smartest OH-SO NEATO, to eat a Dorito

Neatest and smartest OH-SO NEATO, to eat a Dorito

 

and flow from a haired chair, as Therapy comes to and fro through the air, when I care, suchly deep about—when I’m imploring, the cleaning of my apartment—my worn clothes piled in a heap... that I want you to take a leap, to go for a ride, with all of your moneyed Pride—recent receding tides of Atlantic waters, waiting for the high’s and the low’s—a million dollar business named “Pitney Bowes”: my Dad’s customer, all costumed up, all dancing in costumed-customers for plied, pied, P-O’d plastics ’n’ bold polymers and little old me, with a memory of my circumcision scarred and big like Bulbous—taking it too far—how far???

How about a slut’s butt ogled in a bar on the Boulevard—or a diner—breakfast time for me the weiner whiner WINNER of garnering viewers, perusing me, pushing me to squander fan-fare, planting first a fist on the mouse when at a Desktop—it’s mostly mouths moving and lap-top on my knees not flopping limp, like a sip of a drink, SOBER 2016! what amounts of vodka, from my mouth to the sink, coming out with gagging—the puke, stinky and obscene, that’s no longer for me, that, oh the “Days End” bar and I being the one sitting nearest the front door—that walk across the street from 288 Main St. stumbling bunches, I’ve never been hit like Punched- Full On, maybe getting a couple stitches for ones in a bar-room brawl, like ye olde Western cowboys and the drunks sipping brew, like you too, and Bono’s vocal Bones and teeth too chattering at The Interlude—ENCORE ENCORE ENCORE !!!!!

I need something more.

Yeah something to be pre-Published on what but (instead of) my 3 dot-com’s and Blogspot—that I aught to get in touch with a Poetry Magazine “Publishment” smoking a “Parliament”—that’s punishment for my longtime smoke going down my lungs and waiting a certain amount of time to eat lunch, that I heard not to eat right after smoking tobacco, what do you know, The Ph. D. pharmacist pushing pills into the mouths of many, or putting on patches like the Duragesics flowing Fentanyl, nicotine, etc.—so morbidly awful—is the cyringe crying at the thought of a distant fam — it’s holy Molly — that’s another drug I’ve never ever done, like those in need of quelled pain—the addiction I hear is Insane and addly bad

From what have is being herd of sheep, every day of the weakness (bad backs) panic attacks seeping crummy sleeping—to wake at dawn—the fields are long and over-due to sheath the corns husks, Elon with a MUSK—And Agriculture—to wake at dawn—crops of a huge, huge “lawn”—needing oh John’s Deere his horns—on a Tractor, powerful linebacker of playing the pigskin—pink—a gay faggot touching the lower intestine, that, a Trojan Horse—I’d invest $82-dollars in them defeating Greek salads, eaten by Freaks N’ Geeks abroad, singing sailing sea-side SONGS—“Stairway” of L.Z. is so long- a favorite of me who I strive to be the peak of the bestest even boobs, same size left-and-right, squizzed together nicely—Almighty—doing it right-handed cup size of an A+ (in class) I’ve seen the size of men’s manly Mammaries what number of 32”? or 34”? my wasted wasting of a WAIST—wait my wrists writing—I’m a 34” waist- POST HASTE retrieve this man of the finest Jammies in the land of when I’d be tucked in bed, only then, as a toddler and Ye Olde Bedtime Stories and “Old Man River” causing cuddle a la puffy, fluffy widow, I mean PILLOW—but don’t get me started on pills—I take enough, commonly, my Medz to stay educated in the matter of Zoloft and Xanax much amounts of pounded pills, sucking them down for a Fiend’s appetite at night I usually take only 2 Zany-bars (X) and shackled snacks and 3 Zoloft with Arts ’n’ Crafts being balanced by the staff and patients here—I’m in the clear and clean eyes shiny and brainly, planned- painfully bright lighted halogen and Haloperidol—that Medication of Temptation to uproot a SiriusXM radio-station ephemerally when my shattered left hip—I seen, I sent, it to”HIP-hop nation” channel 34 once again my Waist cracked and addled, when I would choose not to ride a saddle (or a Suzuki Sport-bike)