how did she do that? i think it was a magic handbag.

the old lady flew away.

granny troggs has a fruit stand

words are droppings;

we are not

picking up after ourselves, are we children?


FAKE FRUIT

COME GIT YOURS

FROM MY FAKE FROOT STAND

frake frute

frakkin fruit

silicate putty grown on wire

nummy rummy

seeps through tummy

gastric aacid

HOO HAW

granny gits hers here

take it fake it its fake for a reason

even the stand

is a figment of figs and imagination

OH, MY

om my, yes

ohhhhhhh  fake fruit for plastickooks

plastic ovaries for overbearing bearswine

swipe my fruit?

not without plastic.

swipe it through the lady's buttcrack

plastic fruit aluminum crackpipe cottage cheese thunderthighs

i do not lie

my fruit will last forever.

a crew sybil

question: are you afraid to die?

answer: i will miss things. japanese kids. pizza. my companion. the color cerulean.

question: are you afraid to die?
answer: it is not just my fear. we are all in this together.

question: do you care about anyone other than yourself?

answer: i want everyone to be happy. i love everyone.

question: are you selfish?

answer: i am trapped behind my perceptions, my point of view. i am the camera, and i am always set to "record"

question: question: question: are you afraid to die?

answer: i'm afraid i already have




question: will you ever do something new?

answer: 

everything that happened happened so long ago

i heard a story about a girl who got some sand in her clam

and it spit out a pearl.

she gave it to her boyfriend

but he choked on it. he wasn't expecting it.

i choose you!

pikachuterus!

du shit

the fish is probably dying. bluuuue blew boo beaux 

panty panty scumcatcher


so everyday when i walk to school, i walk past a pair of ominous black wires dangling from a pole; probably a power line, and even though it looks inactive, i suspect it to be a live wire. 

i walk past the dangling, exposed wires everyday. They are at my eye-level. This provokes imaginings. They are thus:

i walk under the lines this time instead of around them and since they are at (my) eyelevel, one of them strikes my wide-open glazzball and I AM ELECTROCUTED THROUGH THE EYEBALL ELECTRICITY RUNNING FROM THE EXPOSED WIRE END THROUGH THE CABLES CONNECTING MY SIGHT BALLS TO THE COMMUNICATION COMMAND CENTER AND the eyeball expolodes into a gummy bubbly jelly and I CAN SEE ONLY ELECTRICITY, CAN ONLY THINK ELECTRIC THOUGHTS. the smoke pours out, noir,through the tear duckt of my other eye.

i probably scream, but am too caught up in the moment to be really self-aware.

supraselfaware.

i lied about there being imaginings, there is only the one imagine, but it's a doozer and a half.

eyeballjelly. glazzy on toast. earwax on rye with melted haveahearty cheese.



the other day

i picked my nose and it

started to bleed. this is the natural bleeding cycle of the nose;

your body's way of telling you

to cut that shit out. you are too old to pick your nose.


growing up growing out out growing up growing

i waited but you never

finger tip toe

tip tack tow

hop, skip, jump away. you jumped away.

and i said so! and i said go!

hop skipped jump

leaps and bounds

i waited but you never came. i waited but you never came. i waited but you never came. 

it is just me
and the ghosts.


we thrush our firsts against the pots and steel in sits we three the gots

                                                                                               gots

                                                                                               gots
                              
                                                                                               gots




togs

togs

togs


(toga?)

stop that. trying to be seriously.

(seriously?)

well excuuuuuuuse me.


(no, keep going. this is the part where it gets good. i've seen this one before)


your stupid haircut is only a reflection of how stupid you are.

hairmirror that spells disaster. the calendar nods its head in agreement.


yes. yes. yes.


everything will die in the winter.


i will go back to ghostland.

you will hop, skip, jump away.

























even pulling off your own head is easy if you try hard enough.

it sounds like velcro when you rip the flesh.