Friday, February 19, 2016

DRIVING MY MOMMY'S CAR aimlessly is my favorite exercise. i am restless again. here i am, running over the bodies of things i don't feel like dealing with again, entirely missing the point 'kuz it's probably not something i see. cold fucking vomit everywhere- too mushy to kill. it crosses my mind that this is not fair. i suicide-bombed a hospital earlier. i suicide-bombed the supermarket. what more does it take? the inferno takes too long.
i've an affinity for drivin' around residential neighborhoods. while i hold a low amount of curiosity as far as what's in the houses, it's easy to get lost. what's in the houses: televisions. beds. stuff laying around that i don't care about. people that would refuse to open their minds to my point of view whose points of views i would refuse to open my mind to. they all look and act the goddamned same. nevertheless, i like their swirly curly roads best 'kuz i feel like how i do after i just hurt myself- alive. i like to drive along the one main road my town has into the neighboring towns. i see the nurseries closed during this part of the year. i see old dirty snow i characterize as old dirty men- it's been around for weeks and weeks and weeks and people have probably fallen over it thus pleasuring the dirty old man snow. i see stores that have neon laser blinding signs, in which people seriously pay others to kidnap their children. the people are so disillusioned that they don't have any feelings about selling their children to the itemization and commercialization that's meant to happen to us all. look at me, for instance. i've got a machine loaded with wires stickin' out of my back. my posture has been shitty for days. look at you. take a look at yourself.
i ask, what is the name of the drug we're on? is it cold fucking vomit we're all hooked to? is vomit always this cold? 'kuz i remember, years ago, layin' on my back, and vomit burning my eyes. i don't remember anything else about that memory except i was "piss drunk". i don't know if i want this shit in my veins anymore- i don't know if i want this shit in my life at all. i don't know if i want this town but who wants their towns when all they know is that that is what their thinkings look like.
yo, i've never seen a star before so i don't know the use of knowing what a star is. i say, "that [traffic] light is like nine gazillion million billion trillion light-years away." well the machine growing into my back calls me "dumb". it's been trying to prove itself, trying to prove that there is such a thing as "unnatural" no, i refuse to believe we are not all nature. "well, i'm not an astronomer or an astrologist so i don't really see why you care."
he doesn't care about my shit- of course he doesn't care about my shit that's why he's invading me. he cares about his own shit. only i care about my shit. just before i was shooting the shit with people who've "been through a lot" as they say about us. not once did i think "gee, this person sure is strong for surviving." well not fucking once did any of them think "gee, this young lady sure is precocious as hell."
i doubt my ability to spell the word "precocious" every time i spell it. gee. life sure is a bundle of pretense except when you look at it really it's pure impermanence.