If You Can Read This...

You think you own the world,
Because you bought your new trombone,
But I have gone quite secretly,
To replace your Folgers with crystals,

Now what can you do but revile in your pains of agony?
You can pay all that you owe to the man who set you free.

Every word I spoke,
I spoke because of you,
Now the table's turning,
Though a turntable it is not.

(Must be on wheels or something)

So divine yet hellish all within a common place,
The severance and bewilderment tears through,
Without a sound.

Poksi körvy nöffin möffin,
I haven't the foggiest, really.

Oh, sod it! I'm not even British!

Why are I writing hmm? For never is going down!?

Strike that sentence, it makes no sense-tense. Done.

I once wrote about a little seal. He waylaid and confused the masses. Now as I think about it, it was not that different from what I was, but am no longer. No longer than wide, I suppose. It saddens me sometimes, but with freedom you lose your way, obviously. I'd like to say it's different, but it'll always be the same. Everyone keeps plugging along the only way they can. They could plug along differently, but that would require them to be something else: Fired clay or molten lava. I didn't understand it at first, but I realized that's all it was. The End.

Except I kept on writing because I don't know where I was going with that. I wear sunglasses at night so I can, so I can... sleep. However, I do not sleep with sunglasses on. It is merely to block out the blue light from the monitor in hopes that I can regulate my circadian rhythm. Does it work? To some degree.

I hurt my back. Carrie fixed me a bit. It still hurts. I break like I'm getting old. Old and fat and lumpy. Lumpy McLumpykins. How am I lumpy? Let me count the chins. That could be a joke about Asians.

That's about it, I guess. I don't want to say more, because you would stare at me strangely with those eyes of shame. Such shame in your eyes that I do not feel. Mortification. Tiffamorcation. Constanortation!

I liked you better when you said my name with joy. You and your cats; they but annoy. Purring and licking and looking so primp. Furtively furry, surreptitiously serene. They will come for me one night with their claws to avenge all the wrongs. Why do you think I keep the doors closed? Their one fatal weakness is their lack of thumbs.

I hear the ghosts whispering in my ear at night. Some of them know my name. They call my name. How could you sleep knowing this? Yet you judge me?! You think you know me?! What are they saying? Some of them I can't understand. They whisper so loudly at times but I don't know what they want.

If they would like to make a call, please hang up and try again.

You can spiral inward, outward, up, or down. If you did anything else, it would be a circle. Round and round and round.

I ran out of lint roller. My pants are fuzzy. The cats are trying to suffocate me. Slowly they fill my lungs with fur until I can no longer breathe. This is surely because I have thwarted their initial diabolical plan. They think I won't notice until it's too late! Well, I'm on to their little game! They must be stopped... they must be stopped... THEY MUST BE STOPPED!!!

Every little day that passes,
You have passed the little gasses,
Yours always just smell so bad,
Makes me wonder what you had,
Mine are always loud and fierce,
But nostrils never do they pierce,
Not silently or dead-i-ly do they fill the room,
Do they fill the room?
Clear the room.

The clown. That was a hard act to follow. He honked his horn and blew his nose, and blew his horn and honked his nose, and nosed his horn and blew his honk, and honked his blow and horned his nose, et cetera.

One time I lost my mind. You found it under a park bench. I do hope it was mine. It looked very similar so I stuck it back in. It may have been someone else's. Unless I changed my mind. Can one change their mind when they have lost it, or do they need to wait to get it back? Action at a distance.

This is here to fill space and time with words that may or may not have meaning as a segue into the next pointless paragraph.

Imagine me and you, and you and me, no madder than we toss the rice, and then you see, the only one that needed you, was needing me, then we're all together. Bah-bah-bah-bah-bahbah-bah-baaah-bahbahhh-baaaaah-bahbahbaaaaah-baaaaaah.

The cats. They will never be anything more than cats. All they do is sit around and poop, waiting for us to shove more food down their throats. Why do we even have them? It's a horrid abuse of our natural maternal and paternal instincts is what it is! They are never going to do anything to further civilization. They aren't going to fix anybody's car. They don't do the dishes. They never are going to do the dishes! They don't create anything except poop. They will never be of any use to society. It's more than just maternal and paternal instincts that they subvert. It's a lame way of trying to fulfill some basic need to be needed by another social creature. It exists to that we build a successful community of people that aren't going around killing one another. It isn't really supposed to extend to other animals. They are little psychopaths who do nothing but feed on our resources and take advantage of our caring nature. They know we don't like them chewing on things, getting up on tables and speakers, scratching on things, so they just wait until we're not looking to do those things. They don't like us because they think that our views of the world are interesting or respect us because of our moral codes or accomplishments. They just hope they're going to get something out of us. Give us food and massage our fur. What will we do in return? We'll gnaw on your furniture and coat your house in a layer of nasty, allergenic hair! Then if you're really good, we'll barf on your carpet. Why do we do this to ourselves?! All because we want some stupid feeling of being 'loved' by little fuzzy psychopaths.

/rant