i think my brain stopped some time last night as i was burning the last of my marawana into my left lung sack...a night slightly sideways with dirrty cnn broadcasts and empty pop music videos and stoned girls half asleep on my
couch, Hey Rube i was reading machiavelli in the early lava lamp light
bubbling up under my heavy eyelids...your movie with buffalos on TV last week, bill and that guy who plays the dad on Everyone (but me) loves Raymond...there was soMEthing sinister about the inate bitchiness of the universe last night...not all hollow eyed and high like ginsberg, but a freakish kind of insanity that made my skin crawl...enough so i choked down my first quarter pounder in four months...as my left and right brain hemispheres were conspiring to flip savage images of the gestapo onto the slight protrusion of britney spears belly at 3am...dope and lethargy in suburbia...if ya see NIXON...now more than ever, give him a swift kick in the shins or maybe the nuts...whatever comes first...peace...hunter...peace...Raoul...the new york
times obit. got your age wrong...peace **** em.
Rolling Stoned got shot up under the highway overpass...guess a world where the W wins twice was to much...personal expiry dates are relative...i saw the bats in Las Vegas, I saw nixons fingers pointing that way...i saw jehosafat under my dinning room table hidding from the wise men at christmas...i saw the last best mind of his generation destroyed by madness...not starving, but naked and hysterical...dragging himself through his Aspen compound at night looking for an agry fix...I saw you burning for that heavenly connection in the snowy dynamo that night in february...so I cough back.
Let the fraggles play, hey hey...worries for another day.
still coughing in the basement...book sales soaring...conspiracy theorists, theorizing...sunlight eyed, stink of city of capitalist sodomy at noon...execs all high on coke candy nostrils...make money off you one way or another...phlegm...phlegming...great gobs of ebay sellers and printmakers rubbing grub from the senora all over thier faces, freak dancing...the money will roll right in...still coughing...still laughing...coughing...its a laugh