who is this how do i say who is this midthought snare simple worthless guise specious guise
sugarcoated the insoluble emblem of the gordian knot this was my doing a footnote in simian
aesthetics a long since forgetting
we stood casting our eyes about for better places to affect an illegal transmission in a public
place, the advance decimation of the thousand yet unborn yet this was not a backalley abortion
no but some amorous foreplay,
The edge of reason is a slope. People rolling down it think they’re on the high ground.
There was a Philosopher King over the Boar’s Head plant who read all the literature worth reading before he was thirty.
The King’s cell was unfurnished, except with books. He used them as tables and chairs and avoided the world whenever possible. The world was the greatest source of impurity in the known universe,
You go to Afghanistan to find Osama bin Laden.
You get deported back to the U.S.
You sell your story to Hollywood and become famous.
You get addicted to cocaine with your agent Marty Howell while attending D-List celebrity parties.
You fall in love with a porn star named Tiffany Waves.
She breaks your heart and leaves you when your fame ends.
With nothing left to lose,
I think I caught that Aveno Flu from all the bird drippings on my car! And you may have too, god forbid! I still have my cough and if you are coughing, I expect you’ll be doing so for a few months. This, whatever it is, really hangs on. I wish we were together coughing our guts out like we used to do; remember how we always used to get sick together?
