listen, if i’m gonna be dead later
i don’t believe in now.
there are weird feelings
all over
and it has nothing to do
with pain.

living is a sensitivity due
to the
weather.

i just happen to know
the feeling of it,

after awhile, i’m
no longer
interested.

a townhouse was blown to bits
and a woman gave birth on njtransit.
i laid on a carpet staring at
a warhol and the townhouse
is pleasant and i am not
pregnant.

what
is
the
difference

we
are
on
completely
different
wavelengths
and
i
am
just
transmitting
messages.

why would you believe in
life when you believe
in death? existence
is a contradiction
in common
sense.

nature is insulted
by our delusional
demeanor. the
trees find us
pretentious, and
the moon thinks
we are retarded.

i am in
litigation
with a
sun
set
and
my roses
are sending
me
death
threats.

the reality
is

the moment something
goes up your ass

the
whole

world

falls
apart.

“to be serious,
dead serious:
spread me down
park avenue from
a tin can”

is that

a cigarette

or a

slim jim?

i do

not
believe

i understood
the

question.