You could take my shoes if you wanted to.
I ran a batch of vomit through my Coffeemate this morning and it tasted remarkably like a McCafe specialty coffee.
I was happy once.
My ability to speak decays more every day alongside a thriving need to express.
Sometimes my mind breaks and collapses into itself.
Sometimes is equal to or greater than always.
Mathematics causes feces to drain from my tear ducts, which stains my eyes, which is why I am taking yours apart and plundering and purloining the pieces.
I don't care if you
Ten days ago I won an everlasting life on Wheel of Fortune for solving a puzzle in the Before & After category. I gave it to a crippled child in the audience and that was when the crowd turned against me.
I can never get the lines and images quite right.
The hearse broke down halfway to the cemetery. When the other hearse arrived the coffin was transferred and the procession continued on to the burial site.
I knew a girl with lick lips, and teeth like pieces of gum, but not chiclets; Bubble Tape, I think it was.
Moot points aren't really points is what I'm thinking. Sort of like a pointed baseball. It's really the force of it that cuts your skin, not how sharp it is.
It's not supposed to make sense; sometimes getting a reaction, evoking something is enough.
I was just informed not to be abstract because some people are offended by abstract thinking and speaking, and using abstractions or even the word abstraction is a bigoted act of meanful hate-spirited violence against concretion as well as lovers and practitioners thereof.
[Or something like that]
I heat oil in a pan and drop dead flies from the window sills in and watch them hiss and pop and hiss, and I pretend they are special dancing flies that are happy I am home again.