Sunday, November 16, 2008


this was some stream of conscious bullshit i wrote during free period last year.

Down radio signals down from your ethereal lullaby just words don't shoot you never can tell with people 'round here. One never knows if the want to hug you or put a gun to your head and a knee in your somethings. Thanks god for band-aids. Neosporin is a conspiracy. Neosporin is for pussys. It just eats your flesh, but people are too full of thoughts about the hanky-panky and cinammon buns, and all types of buns, to realize the truth. And then, when their flesh dissolves, time for a trip to the gooey store! the pharmacy store! the neosporin store! the conspiracy store! Two conspiracies for the price of one from 5-7 pm on Monday. Don't forget dumbass. Pull your ass out of your head. Congratulations you have been relocated to a tool shed to live with others like you, which is fortunate because i was beginning to tire of your love for radioactive microwaveables. I think i'll hire a dinosaur to make a piece of paper out of your tool shed. The i'll write on you! Pieces of 8, Ice-skate, Mastre Beyt, milk krate. Smells like a premium day for Chinese beverage betrayal. Smug opportunites to make friends only leave you more pulled away.

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