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The IBrain (Like IPad) A Generation Of Gorgers December 14, 2012

I am thirty eight years old and I sprouted a new head three and one half years ago by denying me what I thought were necessary and pleasureful potions. At last, my pores could breathe and the synapses started to fire correctly. My right arm continues to jerk on its own schedule. It sucks when I’m holding a hot cup of joe or smoking a cigarette. The detriment to this part of my brain that leads my arm to misfire, a tourette of a limb if you will, I may decide to ponder a bit more on the weird and strange occasions when my right arm jerked, and well that spoke for me as far as being a jerk. No coincidences infidels.

As a result of my greed of anything feel good with no discretion skills consulted I lived a life of a revolving rat wheel. I killed the rat. I liked to impersonate the wheel too too much. Mass consumption will lead to mass congestion; worse than every person ever witnessed. Jesus I’m sorry but your kicked out of Our Towne good lord to me you’re another body to squeezed onto the terrain of this globe.

I feel horrible about dastardly conditions becoming universally urgent and unacceptable. So I write elicit a chuckle WTF.

Just pay attention always. Stay tuned in but not. Help in a positive way; your way.

No feministing this shit. Please. My IBrain  I designed for my quirky tastes only.

My Apps all include words and order. I provide the creativity.

 

I’m a Bubble Ninja-I Pop in Your bad Eye ANd The Other I BLind October 17, 2012

One day I fell in deep like with “to blow” some  bubbles on the thick green patch of lawn at my disposal at school

Unfortunately, for the bubbles and I when I blow them they  burst in my eyes.

The next day I blew bubbles in spite of the whites of my red and irritated eyes.

The following day it rained and a depression shot downwards into my spinal cord as cold and as quick as life matters.

I picked up my bubble paraphernalia; I blow bubbles because I’m on this earth to do exactly that.

Not to blow bubbles asshole, but to repeat the same mistake–with every implication of insanity

Again and over again–if only I shit rainbows or ate razor blades–I blow bubbles with each one to burst in my eye.

Like I said, repeat the same mistake and fuck myself parallel. Got it?

Picture: Gabrielle Rossetti “FlamingJune” So sumptuous.

 

Engage in some. (So I don’t feel like I must) October 10, 2012

Labor

I push the rock up the hill,

so hard it falls down the other side.Image

Slowly, I walk up the hill,

and down the other side.

It looks the same–another hill.

Once more I push the rock up the hill,

so hard it falls down the other side.

I struggle to walk up the hill,

then down the other side.  Great.

It looks like a mountain this time.

Another hill piled upon another hill.

Again I push the rock up the mountain,

so hard it falls down the other side.

Now I’m crawling up the mountain

Then my old bones tumble down— I ache.

As I lay weary and tired…sleep descends

upon my ragged body…I dream of

cumulus clouds puffy and mountainous.

I lay there asleep  in a ball.  The rock rested.

Seriously, What the hell is the point?

.

 

Devil’s Dish June 9, 2012

Look into the truth under the adorement and see a woman bewitched by a purpose assigned to her by a man.

The devil loves a pagan–the word means simply means worshipping many gods…instead of one…and worship for other than social reason.

One man’s dinner is another’s devil’s dish–

A father waits with pride as his family sits for Sunday dinner,

Another man, he pretends to “Father” this broken home–

he rescued it (the home) from becoming degenerate. Cause he is it.

One woman kneels for seven years, one night at a time, to ask for

God to relieve her mind of the obsession of crime.

Another girl she laid on her back and prayed for seven days–

“Help me God to mend my evil ways.” On the eighth day she

walked away free, the other girl she put herself away for insanity.

Just so happens–the other girl seven years later learned about

the demon’s dish which tempted her–hasn’t tasted it since her education.

The not so fortunate girl on the ninth day–she always returns to her evil ways.

The Devil‘s Dish served her every nine days vinegar–pure piss and vinegar.

Pink Cotton Candy looks and tastes so sweet; until it’s to lure a three year old into the arms of a strange uncle pete. or not so strange. like your brother.

Parkinson’s disease I’d consider it a horrible disease, until M J Fox was diagnosed and spoke out for the cause. Pink what a pretty color–see how the devil works…Breast Cancer awareness five years later, at least, and please change the color to salmon!

I want pink back. What about Sleep disorders? It’s the Devil’s Dish when the sufferer has Medicare and the government won’t legalize crack.

Speaking of the government…yep that’s the mother lode the father of all humdingers. That’s the Devil’s Dish.

 

 
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