Doing Drugs is Like Voting Republican

    I long for the day chickens learn to fly again.  Egg-ridden and unsavvy, thronging in zigzags, immersed in hot sauce, they scraggle along the widths.  Penny penny, the world spins optically backwards, yearning anthropologically.  Schmuckfaces dance blindly.  I wish wishes, but the sky merely skies.  Woe to the man who has language.  He can describe suffering.  Turpentine tricks fool fools, and fools all men are.  Redundancy and verbosity serve restlessness, layer layer; bullshit. 

    I can fall out of my own ass, crutch fuckers.  “Ooh, if I only kill myself a little, I can pretend.”  My clothes match, my hair fell out, my car has two cup holders.  All the leather in the world can’t make ice-cream taste better.  Pussy grows on trees.  Meals on wheels is walked to the door.  Cats paw jangling keys, sequins sparkle like fusion.  God yawned and swallowed a bug.  Push your ideals then pull a train.  Laugh at the horror and then punch a happy person until he has an excuse.  Dark Side of the Moon.  I fucking get it now.  Dark Side of the Moon, man.  Man.  Dig dig, motherfucker.  You don't get it.  It's there and you don't get it.  You're an asshole non-entity.

    Donuts are fucking awesome.  Raising flowers is hard.  I submitted a new envelope to the Postmaster General.  I rerouted my brain and now I have broadband. 

    I hope it notices me.