Do what thou wilt but doth thou wilt?

SEE WHAT YOU WANNA SEE.

"SEE YOU AT DISNEYLAND."

ED. NOTE: Facilitate a mass undertaking. Take the indifferent and shovel their words back into their gaping mouths. Amused, you declare that their teeth are now the crooked gate to a mausoleum. Quietly lacerate the tender flesh of these willing minions from a good, safe distance. Suck from their lucrative funds until your belly aches and they're forced to perish from poverty. Recklessly engage in lewd premarital sexual ceremonies with nameless encounters while inciting the densest memories of droll eulogies and hushed black masses. Retire to a smoke-soaked inn and play a game of cards with the Son of Sam and the the sound of the seventh trumpet. Lastly and foremost, experiment with a wide arrangement of hallucinogenic drugs. Dabble, cum, and repeat. If only nothing... Moans in E minor.


In my ripe, young age of easily impressionable youth, I find that I'm quite fond of rhyming about largely fictitious accounts of clarity and reason. Because I feel like it, I'm going to cap my week:

In between the shitty shutters of the day and night, I mark the calendar with vague annotations of moments in which I recall absolute interest in anyone. The dates are decorated with arousing illustrations of gals from past and present, all tacked accordingly. Unfortunately, I never make it past their necks. 1D.

I keep dancing with the truth. I keep it at arms length so as to not completely lose sight of it. Truthfulness seems to be a very delicate matter; so much so that you must tend to it like you would a fawn or an adolescent. This begs the question -- Is the decidedly flawed concept of unbridled honesty one of distinct premature nature and yet another indication of our inability to accept things as they actually are?

We're stuck in a timeless black hole. A vat of cultural imbalance. A mess of misunderstanding and argumentative state. A nation of segregation and ear-to-ear grins. Yet we've come so far. We'll continue our struggle for true love and true truth. We'll keep staining our jeans.

Well, this was one of many experiments with uncensored and fluent writing. Go listen to El Rodeo (the band or the song).

And here's to phone sex with the ones you can't actually love.