Race to the bottom 

He was aquatic 

She, nomadic 

  • Theirs, a Predestined affinity 
  • for perishing

Refer unsung heroes
ever since 

then,

I knew mine was 

a life 

word bullons 

crude 

Contraband hush puppies 

Heroin””””””(filled) burritos 

Snuggling  so you don’t  (to?) have sharp objects on you when your spouse 

With That I think I’ll 

  • Preordained misery
  • Already knew 
  • Always, 
  • that 

Chironectes minimum

of South America


Ominous Rex

The ambient creature 

within its own midst 

Manages 

to kill 

the 

vulnerable 

Parts of itself 

So there is no more 

weakness 

for what is yet to come 

ㅠ.ㅠ

Took the moon from you

Like it was a curtain

lifted 

so you could see

your adoring fans again 

My love

He was her Quasimodo 

she was his bat in a belfry 
They were all they needed 

in life 

that was one realization

she could have  

used  20 years ago 

Katnandu

I don’t have much left 

to so or do  

So i might aS 

a precautionary measure —-

A counter-feasibility study on God 

Because all tend to agree 

Microwaves  are necessary 

evils

Now it’s not just the great but termites bite 

today I saw a 3-D pen…

..and, as such, considered

the fact

or would it be

notion

of suicide

 

Not just

BY THOSE OF MY

generation

but by

pen

sharp object

despair

death sentence

 

 

Here I am

not exactly

 woman, hear me roar

everything verifiable is intuitive, and 
there will be time for bad things to happen

THE BOTS READ IN CYRILLIC

HER NEMESIS

 

anti-TRUTH,

anti-BEAUTY

KEATS

 ETERNAL

QUOTIENT

 QUI

Continue reading “today I saw a 3-D pen…”

#Was it truly 

after all

A little chilly 

before the thaw 

  • She called 
  • He answered



This was 

just 

there.


the way 

it was 

As you were 

far away 

by the tine 

We showed up

Interactive narrative toss send off story 

A girl and a boy

Begin 

The poem 

a prelude 

mྂoྂrྂeྂ from Ojai, oh!

Then, shots were fired…

Four dead in Ohio

Matthew Matthews  takes a couple of steps forward in a nonaggressive manner, but that’s not what Roland sees.


The Graph: Math of Story, pt. 2

“No bones. Not even a knee cap.”

 

 

 

 

As if knee caps are a different currency altogether, and, if that were the case, I should have a buried treasure full of gold somewhere, risk-free, in the desert.

I’ve been watching Breaking Bad in consecutive order, an anomoly for me other than “Lost,” “Deadwood” and

to gorge on one season a while back; I saw a middle episode of Breaking Bad (the one in season 3 where the twins are buying body armor from a semi-fucktard redneck in semi-trailer, but I knew everything (pretty much) that I needed to know. I think I watched that in a motel in the midwest or was is South somewhere on location and half asleep, and I can’t remember when that was exactly, but now I have made it to the gun pulled on protege and sensei, student and teacher, grasshopper and master, season 4 episode 12 or 11 or something, but either way, it’s been a bad season for Walt.

I don’t

feel as obsessed as I did

 

when I dreamt I was in Deadwood (because I woke up bleeding

 

Then, there’s Mad Men, which I watched on Netflix from the beginning and that show holds up but can be watched as a one-off, and you get the story of the man, in a Greek tragedy kind of way. Breaking Bad kind of unfolds. More disturbingly, Breaking Bad kind of unfolds in a strange parallel universe I like to call the entertainment industry which is in fact owned by the German Multinational that, on paper, owns the Laundry/Meth Lab and Chicken/Chile HQ, based on conference calls privy to, dimensions of difficulty it takes to function in the ‘real’ world, whatever that is, I still am not sure and all the signs are telling me I should be.

Yet, this I know, I know how to tell a story. The math of story is a graph that must move downward spiral to be ripped usunder to go where no man has thought to plunder to be redeemed and taken to the place unimagined, beyond and beholden, all the nipping at the heels of and chasing with shadows has stopped, but the signs point nowhere, are quite deceptively evoking payment of some kind and this should be no bones, not even knee caps, but something else entirely.

Francesca’s Knees

Francesca’s knees are bruised, from bashing into the car door-steering wheel combo as the Jehovah’s Witness chased her to her father’s Honda, a stoic vehicle in the Ohio snow. The other from the Icelandic Vodka, two brands, his girlfriend supplied in happier times.

She wondered if she was technically a drunk if it was only vodka and only on designated new moons in certain time zones. Who was she kidding? She was a wreck. A train wreck, in a minor key.

There’s no way to know…

…if this were true, you just have to go with it, I imagine myself surfing again on a perfect morning in the perfect temperature water amongst friends, no tiger sharks in the making or anything wrong with a perfect day, coz you get those once in a while even if Henry Miller turns out to be an anxiety-ridden, rule-maker not rule-breaker, and Jack Kerouac was delightfully all over the place but feels in the end like a Dead Beat Dad, since my generation, the X-girls, the generics, embraced it, not afraid of hiding out on the plains of nowhere. Until it means waking up Rumplestilkskin style, 25 years later after a bad, bad lapse in acceptance of what others refer to and agree upon as reality. And I’m not just talking psychedelic experiments, but the ways of art, or physical training that likes to puff up its spiritual bases (see tai chi, yoga, martial arts that are humanly impossible and make you feel like ben wa balls, the equal and opposite reaction).

Repeated exposure to threatening stimuli also causes sensitization of the nervous system. Sensitization results from a pattern of repetitive neural activation or experience.