I always felt stifled by him, like I was always being doubted, or kept under surveillance.
Milk just comes to you. If you want it, you automatically express it and then magically, your muscles are moving in sweet and sour fat-fluid.
Can you imagine if you had the money to buy this boat? What would you do with it?
When I die my ego might involuntarily be replaced by logarithms because I can’t afford to physically propel myself through time, but honestly I could care less: hence why I look the way I do.
I told myself that I needed to smoke all my weed before going through airport security even though I knew it didn’t really matter since I was flying within country.
I am only lost within a season-less haze of reoccurring binaries involving tragedy and comedy, life and death, night and day, male and female.
It’s a possibility, that I’m just chemically unbalanced in the head, or whatever. Because I can’t shake the feeling that after I die I will be at peace finally, happy and free,
I went to the local market and the butcher sold me the goat head for a dollar. A DOLLAR! You can’t even buy a pack of gum for a dollar.
“Intelligence” is a funny word to explain this linguistic, social tendency, since insects do it all the time and no one considers them intelligent.
Here’s some advice for all of the post-graduates who “don’t know what they’re doing with their lives,” why don’t you move to Detroit and buy a Victorian mansion for five hundred dollars?