I sold my soul for a bj & a pack of smokes

there is so much going on and also so very little, that apparently it is impossible to understand anything at all.

so imagine for a moment a parasite that maliciously devours your brain matterless to the point that you behave as if locked in an idefinite acid trip. lost and found and lost and sick on a dirty new orleans thoroughfare heavy with foot traffic, we found a pigeon that way. it moved as if its neck was broken, survival skewered to a few last minutes of precious thick sweaty air. but a quick scientific examination revealed that its head was only screwed on upside down and slightly to the left. the bird walked in circles, head twisted just enough so that the sky was more a grounded perception of reality, rather than a possibility for flight. and no person or beast would disturb its mysterious ruminations. far as we know the bird never once moved from its chosen spot for the better part of an hour of a half, again when we found it, its behavior still bizarre and inexplicable.

I sweat uncontrollably these days. remember that and the difficulty of picking the impostors from the real is simplified immensely ... advice I give as there seems to be a rash of confusion regarding the matter of my identity and the actions believed to be carried out by yours truly. frankly, I blame it all on you parasites. which of us is actually afflicted by their cranial presence is beyond me, but the inch deep scratching itch in my ear would suggest the answer lies close to home. this conclusion would explain a lot from the past couple of decades, but I am honestly too worn out to care. my concern now only regards my new friends and what has developed into a tentative working relationship, a symbiotic back-and-forth, that I think we both find agreeable. between their ritual feeding frenzy and my desire to remain oblivious to any and all consequence and guilt, there is very little to convince me that I have not finally, mercifully, blindly stumbled slash shoved myself straight up the ass of miss lady luck. I always knew she was kinky, but you really should have seen the look on her face.


I apologize to the new people, I hope your expectations were low. I know I'm high.

smells like something is burning.