Has this dream stopped? Have I waited too long for the time to come when I will be at my utmostly most dignified whatsoever. I sit on the couch, but rather lay on the couch, reading books and eating my wheat. Have I lost touch with humanity, or am I just another victim of the medium? the television speaks code, so does the radio and so does the words in the collective universe we have adjoined ourselves within. The words they ramble and they make no sense. I could write a new hip pop song but I did that already. It's on here, yahkno. Still trying to find Sarah, but she'll blossom up real soon. I have just the person in mind, if she can handle my wreklesssssness. Grammar counts, but why bother. No one reads this anyways. Or do they? Every sign says yes but I can't put my finger on my nose quite enough. It's itchy, my nose. So I scratchy it up and yes, I can lay down the facts in Bulgarian and Russian and yahoolickem southern drawl. Does this street car stop here?
There she was, walking down the boulevard of doom, she never knew she could love again, but there he was, caught in the rain, mascara running down his eyes, his skin a yellow tinge. What else could he say to her except "Hello, I love you" but he heard that on a record he played at his mothers decades ago. "Hi," she said, "I'm Rebecca, what's your name sir." I told her that I forgot since I drank too much gin the night before. If your gonna do something, do it big, and get the hell outta there why dontcha. But back to the lady. She was nice, but got bored and there was nothing else I could do except just watch her walk away.
Hello again, what a nice day out it be.
don't you realize what this means to me-the fornication
behind closed doors-making mother- furious and in vain
do we get to choose which dice we throw-I hope your okay-
the words sweat out through my pores
I miss waiting for you, just call me once more, tell me your okay
Where else am I gonna go from here-let me know
dear god let me known
forever withit
mama cass
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