Hello You,


I notice I havenít been around lately, but thatís what happens

when you stumble and fall into some funny lagoon like a haystack-haired

Tina Turner in Hi-Ho-Heels, loves a big fat fulsome lap to fall into when youíre in loveónothingís wrong, sorry, sunís out, bright future, no calamity coming down on me to write my way out of; no problem, Dr. Filth, I kept records, plenty more to come.


So I ran over to my PSB Snakepit Community and made this monthís

attempt to straighten out all the crooked thinking that goes on over there, seems one of my twin-flames ended up calling Dr. Bob a fuckin dipshit, head up his ass, too stupid to be borne, where did you get your medical license

from, moron, a box of stale Cracker Jacks, so I go off my meds and defend Dr. Bob, then next day find out Dr. Bob blocked me 4 weeks for sticking up

for him.

And for the last time

donít come back

til you can behave

like a nice,


chemical formula!


So 4 weeks, then Iím back in, right on schedule.


Til then Iíll just keep reading Darby Crashís biography, learn how to

negotiate my way through the wreckage he left behind.

That hyper-aware little virus had his shit together, I am irate that he

did himself in.


Is there a scholar around who can convince me itís not your fault?

Thanx again, Germ-Killers!



Iíll give you silver guns to drip old blood

Letís give this established joke a shove

Weíre gonna wreak havoc on this rancid mill

Iím searchin for somethin even if Iím killed


Lexicon Devil

Darby Crash, self-declared social heap











Copyright 2002 and Robin Plan.All rights reserved.