I'd call this just say no but wrong, too obvious, so I don't know
what
to call it, I'm too busy here with the same old list, fuckin list
of fuckin
imperatives, the same smelly list that keeps poppin up, same list
of
actions to take to keep from spinning off--nothin special, just
what
normal people do, trade bad habits for new, you'll get used to
these too,
oh, and this is imperative, unfortunate but necessary:
the list, fuck you,everyone knows
"it" is in fact liberation fromthe list,
my long-overdue destroy-all-clocks ticket to paradise and no
matter
how endearing the docs get in beefing its appeal (DAYPLANNERS
MAKE SCRAPBOOKS POSSIBLE!!) their list of well-being boils down
to the
same beautiful dream:
else but Nancy Reagan, are you chuckling at me? That orgasm
will cost
you two nights of cuddling bub, I just don't know who is crazy
anymore,
I know only one thing; I'd have to become someone else to go for
that list
but hey, I'm getting closer, my Alzheimer's problems becoming an
increasing
and increasingly unpardonable fact of my existence, won't be
long now
til we're feelin fine in the sunshine, sans clocks, sans mind, sans
sandy beach,
KingInc.of all I survey, President of the Untied Shoes of
America, playin in my
own excrement or, shall we say, Mommy.