love is a banquet from which we leave

i want to watch the empire skin a man alive. i don't know. we put each other through infinite amounts of agony. don't understand what i'm feeling. i want to meet hieronymus bosch. it's sorta weird how he's so anonymous. i have nothing. two empty glasses. hung images. going to the library to gather pictures of yugoslavian concentration camps. it seems pretty to be in the dark cutting flowers with scissors that are still connected to being 8, the carousel, and spilling wine because the damn earth ain't an even surface. then in a room, you're only space, constantly listening to two songs with two empty glasses and only one coughin nail left. it's all typical. the mallard. a family of dead wrestlers. and somehow the fire can never get big enough, the flames never get high enough. it hurts so bad, like the supremes, especially that girl who got eclipsed by diana and could only reconcile with all the drinks. a ha ha ha. take me to russia. and a mixtape and a walkman (could you only imagine a girl on a train with a walkman and THOSE eyes). this is so fractured that lawrence taylor would say i couldn't do better. just remember that jesus got tempted by that last lil' trick. saving humanity? HAH! that sly devil, it's the easiest method to tell a man his actions are selfless. he'll follow you to the grave! "this is the way, step inside!" i'd rather, rather sadly mind you, believe morrissey, because you just haven't earned it yet, baby! atleast i am. and atleast i'm gun' go see lil' wayne. and i saw a fite in a strip club. and a candle in the face of a drunk airforce man. i can't make these things up, the opportunities are infinite. to bed with jerry springer on the mind.
always pro-tomorrow,
galvin (in spray paint)

it's like eating a mermaid!

it's always ten miles a minute so just hold your hoses, girls. i ain't got much to say. the g'vner from that big ol' socialist state with the secessionist husband is rumored to have been a success but i call bad eggs. just bad eggs. me and my diet v8 splashed with vodka are not so much into the notion. it was watching tyson vs. what's his name with the pretty smile. also, she's gonna have skin cancer. but seriously the avoidance. what is this? why is it being bought? how dull the center is. i know more than people can imagine that i am OUT there but i still feel connected. it just feels so false. i wanna drink with joe biden, i like that dude a lot. i like me a politician who can tell a good story and i'd bet my two last silver dollars that that man can do it. give him so light. it's so stupid. she's DULL. DULL DULL DULL. she's the people that ruin things. that make the world so very, very sluggish. i want to drink gallons of alcohol and find the vaudeville. remember when people said, "give me liberty or give me death," instead of saying, "freedom isn't free." witchdoctors and libraries. she inherited a diamond and said she made it. i s'pose. i hate it all. i just want to drink. and read a million books. and laugh forever. this human condition. so i follow it all with drink. and madmen. which is sooooooooo good. characters are constantly looking like people i know. which makes me feel regret for my stupidity. i will soon learn to sow. and that can mean a variety of things. and i just keep wondering if the bananas are ripe. and why are the apples all granny. and why am i so bored. there isn't enough action. i should've written about things past but it's too late now. i skipped out on radio call-ins. and all the things i should be asking people about. how do police helicopters work? ugh. i can't stop eating fruit. and biscotti. and i just chase love. it's something worth talking about way more. but the gun is jammed. don't take it sexually or nothing. so i drink my classless drink and sulk. i need a makeover. how does one get a haircut? i don't even know. (this is where the good line goes). i'm missing opportunities. atleast i can see a newborn. it's a beautiful thing. and i should clean my room. the burps keep coming. and you know very well that i'm well read. and scattered. i read about thuggies last night. and the first indonesian war. and found a relation between tulsa and apartheid. lastly i want a light up shirt but i ain't really lookin. i just want to find the right fit. put it on a memorial and forget about it. that's what she said or that's what they told me.
the royal dumbass
just looking for an elephant graveyard in the disorder.
congratulations.