Misunderstandable in Book Title.

I wonder what age I will be the next time I’m acting. I am so fucked in the funny bone. It’s not even a question of gray areas without dark matter. zzzz I’m having a slumber party. It’s more like a sleep over. Or maybe I overslept. Anyway I’m always late and what you’d suspect.from my red eye glaze is really a good cry in a deep freeze. Didn’t find the guinea pig for three years. Air tight rubber seal broke the rails for the smell train.
Never knew a worse or a better way. Not a single divorce and washed their sins clean. I can’t remember why we stood in the lobby. I guess we just had something to propagate with a legal end. They asked me not to drink from the water fountain. Is it the wishing change that lends a copper flavor? Could be the nose bleed of satan’s advocate unable to understand or miss the point I had? The jury’s still out. It’s been over a week now. I bought two cartons of cigarettes before we rested. Who could’ve known about the evidence? You need a witness to weigh down your paper. Sometimes a paper weight is less space to share heat radiation and sometimes a paper weight is more than you bargained for at any farm auction. It depends, probably, on your preferred synonymous units of measurement- self rising is to contraction as all-purpose is to mother.
I’m pretty sure I took that standard of testing to another level beyond the intended communion of hive minds. Let’s start a universal language so I can tell everybody to fuck off. It’s misunderstandable in the light of volcanos. It’s sporty & fungal with shoe fetish fancy but in logic cents the warmth under cover is friction on the track marks- masturbation is the purest form of art. Love begins as the weather. It’s all fair in a pack of playing cards as long as mine outnumbers yours until the last man standing turns Benedict Arnie. It’s changing hands again, who owns the round this time, is that clock right? Permanent mid-morning.

What the fuck are you doing? Unrequited thirst is only ever quenched by the sweat and tears and piss long past, forgotten, fluid spilled for no good reason like blood into the trenches. I’ve been so many puddles. I’m insignificant among the oceans. Help me find my swim suit. I need my fish sticks, my stone-toed boots, my flannel & beanie, the rest of my dog tags and basically then I’ll be prepared for deep, deep, deep diving to find and recover my dignity in the form of lost liquids seeped from flesh holes. Don’t mind my gag reflex. It’s just a kneejerk reaction, not unlike a real kneeslapper. What’s the framed reference in Roger’s punchline? Socialists campaign for insider trading of necessary presence in context humor- it’s a far cry from red white and blew my wad early birds squirming with wormy disappointment. Water’s not an atmosphere nor is it an ointment. You’ll just get rain in your bed if you aren’t hypervigilant about patching the ceilings. It’s not like you’re gonna hurt any chances of starring eternally in headlines.

More likely, you’re bound for the headlights. You’ve got those doe eyes. The ones paralyzed in bewilderment by an ethereal glow cast ghostly thru thick plastic. The kind of sockets that really tempt a wrench. The hollows above the sunken places in your cheeks. It’s a killer vantage. You’d be a serial soul stealer without the universal law rejecting telekinesis. Lucky for us all gathered here symbolically in a loose knit community of codependent love sick tactile weapons. It’s a biological farethewell to war games.

Let’s just let love win. Let go & love gets hold. Now the story can begin and end as we all knew it would eventually, with a time that came once and the neverending happiness that followed. The awful truth is bittersweet is not such a bad mental state. Not that it will ever be ratified. Nationalistically, narcisstic people sweep the polls like chemically dependent sentient treadmills and the true sweetness is felt in equal measure with bonedeep homesick urges to replace all our blood cells with vinegarettes on spinach.