The Wisdom of Feces

mellow bunnies on pretty paper drugs. the swamp. too sure of my struggle. death is a greeting card. it matters almost as much as it doesn't. ugly little love songs. dirty crayons coloring in black and white. every word is a colorform. waiting to be shrunk down into nothing.

silly cadavers making ice cream sundaes out of embalming fluid. The morgue is the place I love. Rife with mouths that cannot argue. The logic. The madness. Of waking up every morning is caucus enough to discard them. My eyes are my attorney. My fingers are my jury. Innocent isn't even an option.

But I know that I'm not guilty.

Delirium comes with many insights. anyone know where to find a good monkey replicator? ask me after I've finished translating my vomit. Primates on the patio leave behind just enough shit for me to determine I don't want to go there.