Sunday, 31 January 2010


Something is blocking me.
Something is certainly wrong.

He breathed on her. Hot breath in her ear. Both ears. Glazed eyes gazing.

To live and shave in LA. Other subtle weirdness.

What's going on here? What's happening? What are you doing? And could somebody please tell me what's with all this fucking commotion.
He exploded in grey mirth and cackled deliriously.

Codes approximated.

Shag ass, smoke this, smoker.

He fancied himself as something of a debonair twit.

Deformed, decapitated. Smells.

Pens sapping ink. All my devices have leaked. I am not configured properly. I am a machine that has

A sense of well-being.

obsolete. Forgotten its original purpose.

So: all devices sapped.
I am leaking energy with twitches and grimaces. I am petty, bitter and haunted because my diet is incorrect.


It's more convenient to believe that.

Hierarchy. Repitition.

Be more tranquil.

Gormless grin. She marvelled at his jealous tendencies in nasty fascination, much to the

It was unpalatable.

Problems emerge.
This is a thing we can watch and discuss.

"Are you talking to yourself?" she queried in a biting, sarcastic tone.

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