It's pieces of a plastic cup. Thank you, for everything you've done for me.
My little dog's porky now and an addict. She's got the manipulative mind and behavior, but due to mixed messages, I fear. I'm afraid to show her some tenderness before her bedtime, because that means she's going to be eating ham.
This one time I thought I was going to die after a few days of playtime. I was on my bed. A few minutes earlier, I had got to what little was left on the bathroom floor, along with who knows what chemicals. I didn't know if it was posion, or a heart attack or stroke; I couldn't move or breathe lying on my bed. When I was standing my whole body was numb. I kept whimpering in a voice I'll never forget, "please no, please no." I also kept repeating, "I'm so scared, I'm so scared," in a quick, continuous drone-like monotone. It felt like my brain had snapped.
I tried to blog "forgive me"
A few hours later I deleted it. After that time, I got angry. From then on, I ignored physical symptoms, cause the uncouth fucker was trying to kill playtime.
This other time I thought I had found my video. I was worn out; I didn't know if I could go again. Life was dragging me. I walked into the bathroom and he was sitting on the floor. If this was the real thing, it would trump everything. I would have to go again. This was the Holy Grail; then I would hang myself. Or go to sleep, forever, waking only for awhile. I was talking to myself in my head—I was sitting on my bathroom floor hiding with my ipad in my lap—like my father talked to me over the phone when my grandpa had died. I felt like I had my hand slightly on his shoulder when I told him. There wasn't time for sad; it was bigger. Though here I was telling him that we had found it. He was tired. We had been anticipating it for some time, and it was that tip of anticipation, the moment it becomes real. I watched it in a few more sessions, then when playtime crept up on me then I couldn't remember the title again. When playtime went wild, this started occurring frequently, and in quick moments passing. I would save them ferociously; some of them I didn't have time to get to. It was always her. Deep down, when it was over, I would bemoan the fact that I couldn't get to the other ones. I have to see it, all of it. I became her. I became him. I became them together. I knew exactly what each was thinking. I became every sensation, every moment, and every sound she made. I wonder if I would hang myself, if it was her. I don't ever want to know, because I'll never stop.
i have a problem with ego
not the waff—shut up!
sorry
mine is the size of america's obesity problem
ego and confidence are completely different things
different realms
i worked out today
enjoyed working
felt useful and innovative
sleepless it doesn't make a difference
im tired of watching lord of the rings
i keep renting it
even the great battle scenes are starting to bug me
even gandolph is
like shut up Gandolph!
stop being so...grand
and warm
should've looked for Born in East LA
i don't want to watch anything
esp. not comedy
too tired
i keep smoking
i want to sleep or get drunk then
i don't even want to get drunk, im too tired
i don't even want to think about motels
even these stupid pills aren't working
that quack ill have him clubbed
in the knee
my therapist is a fuckin marriage counselor, how the hell's am i supposed to explain playtime to him?
aa's boring, i can't sit still
i had a good dinner
i only went in cause i felt bad for the owner
there was no one there
dickless yelpsters
im a wonderful person
give me the belt
the wwf belt
funny choice of words
dickless, not belt
prolly think its suicide
like, Lou, where's your belt?
why? rather just playtime
think im setting myself up
i was in one of my best moods today
like of all time
i thought god was in everyone
that we are all one
the good in people
even assholes don't know they're capable of it
my heartfelt speech
get a good tear drip
i like spite, and if someone resents you even jucier
resenting someone because you think he resents you, faggedabodid
he's gelus! the villain
better check my stats
it's been a few minutes
im out of cigarettes
heres a poem about cigarettes
i put it on my fb
im back on fb
already its making me more neurotic
when friends of friends post broad affirmations of self-actualization, or i stumble upon posts deriding selfseeking
i comment asking if that's about me
fuck the poem
ill just say not click and copy paste
you ready? ok go
umm
every true smoker knows that a cigarette is but a natural extension of your arm.
umm. every no i said that the next line—it was a joke poem—every
umm
with amber ashes
the ridges on your fingers
like a ballerina curling gracefully through your skin
and the package
faggedabodid: it's wholly you
marlboro black
for when you take a good shit.
got no feedback
they're too busy posting their shit
feedback? what a bullshit cop-out
i even get angry at people for posting photos of themselves on their pages
why aren't you posting photos of me!
even strangers, especially strangers.
i bettet delete this girl
she posts too many links about shit not about me, news stories political ones not about me
her activity keeps me from viewing my postings a few moments longer
better delete this guy too
...he doesn't look like me
hey-yooooo!
johnny carson
i smoke marlboro black now
because i thought they had made it in honor of me.
i really did, no joke.
like a limited time edition in hollywood
i was high
im a better psychologist
than people trying to pyschologise me
im better than all my friends
thats why they ignore me
i have no friends
they resent me cause im such a kickass writer
that's why they don't read any of em
they're too busy working
why the fuck would i take any interest in their shit?
im too busy writing
if i ever get any recognition
ill have a stroke
a stroke from cockiness
outside ill be humble, probably even crying, and ill prolly mean it
but inside ill have a stroke
i'll explode
they all want to steal my poems
that's why they're ignoring me
they're all secretly conspiring
they do huddles like football players
oh right, throwball
they're going to sneak into my room and steal my trousers
and give it to her husband
my grandpa used to say that about his in-laws when he went senile and cuckoo
How is relapse built? Sleepless fuckin nights. The mind won't shut off, and worn down it becomes susceptible much like the body to a cold. A quick impulse, craving, don't forget the em dash, the sensations of a memory seep in, and what is merely familiar becomes romantic. The kind of romance that'll eat love, if they are apart too long. A cigarette. They say read the big book, it'll put you right to sleep. You know how I feel about reading. You want to eat mechanically; you've dried out all the food groups, sugar even
i get a high from every single post I make
this is not a wasteland
i love you
this is a wilderness
Three strikes and you're out, Rocky.
How you guys came up with "playtime," I'm in awe. Absolute lifesaver. Thank you. Thanks for the other night too, lighting up Hollywood with those colors and such. I wish I could have taken pictures.
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