a correspondence:

go to hell bitch

i'm bad. bad bad bad. invisible groans dribbling down jack-o-lantern grins. delicate things crunching, a song. a bad song, about your defeat. and out of tune. invisible weak dork things falling apart in demented rectums of mind. i'm so angry i could kill everyone. that would take 420 years if i did one a second. if i got 20 years i gotta do over 20 a second. i'll need bombs, man. they give you a phillips-head screw bit in a flat-head world. things are incommensurate. two impossible contradictory elements in the same sickly-familiar compound. multifarious incommensurability. it's a fucking carnival celebrating your redundant irrelevance. your irrelevance made redundant. fungible. you're a useless tool wielded by helpless dorks. a special education is needed, but progress is generic and they WILL fit you in, you self-important fuck. they will break you. not difficult when you hold only glass treasures. you're getting rolled, bitch. it's a fucking conspiracy. an inadvertent one. a short-sighted fly on an elephant's ass. a cruel act of a random fate. stuck in a body, stuck in a time, stuck in a place, stuck in a universe. you wanna be a cloud of ball lightning rolling through the interstices of space. but you're not. you're the village cur, whooped by the local drunks and reviled by decent folks. you're bad and you're going to hell, they say. you could never explain to them their understatement.
[e]
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This all is too much. One word of it is a heaping mound of too much. There is nothing, and there is nothing one can say about that. There is only no thing. A complete void of all emotion, stimuli, reason..... .......pleasure, BUT ALSO PAIN!........there is no conspiracy. There can be no righteous ones to flog you down when all ready fallen, face to the sewage.....there are no wrong doings, or right....and you think on chaos or no order....lending to a sort of order in itself...but this is not the case....there is 100% exact and complete, utter NOTHING.....nothing except...this knowledge, this malaise matter we call ourselves....computing and reacting......to nothing. So why to hear from you this far too muchness? These feelings and complaints and reasons or philosophies..?..?..They can not be. They do not exist. They are nothing. Why speak..? When there is nothing to worry about.? There IS............nothing. and I am not either.
not me,
unkeith
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in one hole and out the other all thought is imposition, fishing nets for ghost fish, or ghost fishing nets. there's a something out there, that we're not equipped to perceive. we get the craziest ideas about it. armchair quarterbacks, but the defense is the NFL's finest. smashmouth, baby. yes, you're a baby with a smashed-in mouth. that's what you get. tickled or bitch-slapped. order is a falling-apart piece-of-crap thing. you carry a round peg in a square world. jam that shit wherever you can. and don't wait to be hunted to hide. because they will get you. there is no conspiracy, just blind idiots stepping on your internal organs spread out on kitchen floor. they're scrambling to get out, choking on the smoke, burning omelettes, in the mcdonalds of your little world, where the aliens come as much to laugh at you in your puniform as to eat your beef. you have been put with the dements and sent to the lions. your only clue is terror. just forget. forget. drink more beer and forget. steal money out of the till if you can, but be sure to forget. forget everything or you'll choke on it. what you can't swallow you must spit out. eat, bitch. drink beer. puke if you have to. but don't take any of it seriously. it's an unfortunate unthinkability within which you are dissected, on display. and i'm sorry to perpetrate this obscene turd of a thought upon your non-being. you're correct. all thoughts are like tickets to a non-event. pet voids. little balls of nothing you cough up with great fanfare. with no regard whatsoever, fuddn't
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*BONUS* identify the Samuel Beckett quote above and elmo will send you a fabulous prize.

NEXT TUESDAY: elmo fuddpucker, doped-up honky spaz