Friday, October 21, 2005
Getting High and Wanting to Die
Hi. Today I am going to ingest the magical pills of wanton perpetrations on the liver and left leg. I will be unstoppable in my pill consumption until I walk lifted a few inches above the soggy ground. My smile will smear downward onto my neck. My eyes will bulge and redden, and tear up gently in the way of the martyred saints. Drool will puddle and drip. Slugs will inch up my sick yellow flesh hoods. I am not a man but a creature of the addicted sinful ways of the pill-popping hoodlums. I will attend rehab sessions beginning next week so today and this weekend are for maximum poison saturation. I have reached ultimate levels of unsound distaste for myself and others. My friends the pills are my only answer. Good day to you. May the tasty loaves rise in the ovens of our souls.
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20 comments:
I have bartered my last goods for the kisses of worthless slatterns. I am happy to be without worldly care. The clients will resume their tattered consumption of me and I will be numb enough to handle it. I will read from pamphlets and smile weakly. Call the poison control center. I am lifted off the ground.
I am ready to receive you in my mind's eye. I am a meat-lover, a dumpling-eater. I am vivid and intoxicated and wanting to de-worm you.
Prepare your tush for maximum redness.
I am placing myself in front of your eyes to make the spectacle less vainglorious and less nonsensical. The spectacle now contains the loveliest polka dots.
I am feeling no pain now. I have thrombo-embolized.
I am tightening around the thighs of humanity to stop the dangers from swelling and blockading the righteous flow.
There are small ladies kicking my calves with pointy pointy sinful shoes.
I am succumbing to the widths and depths of here-sided oneness. It is faulty and rhythmic in the most implosive sense.
Please vacate at once.
Mr. Mountain, I believe I will be in rehab next week as well. Which facility will you be attending?
mm, please be careful with the pills. write the poison control center number on a faded spot of your dungarees, or better yet, your forearm. step on the small ladies.
Clefty I will attend the "Precious Miracles" facility on Staten Island. I hope to see you there.
FB, you are righteous. I will write it on my track-marked forearm.
MM, use the pills as hopscotch points. Not for eating, but for kareoke dance steps. Interpretive dances will ward off unsound thoughts.
Interpretive dances on pills will ward of thoughts, and aren't they the real enemy, thoughts. Thoughts impinge on reality. Let there be no impingement. Be impingeless.
Thanks Randy. Yes. Thoughts are the enemy. The hopscotch points are warm on my tongue, like a lozenge of friendliness. Randy. Will you dance with me in rehab?
Satoshi and I are entering a scream festival of unconscious stability. We are sore-throated but expressionistic in the most demanding fashion. Good evening to you.
Helen please come back to bed. I want to massage your mammaries.
No. I am coughing up blood from my screams. I must plunge my throat and wash it with liquid plumr.
Ewwwwwwwwwwww.
You are sheep. Bleat away.
Helen Bicklesworth, I hope you are doing better.
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