an eager, unpremeditated mouth that yaws in anticipation, snaps or curls in thrummed response; white, wiry cognizance in newly-burgeoned limbs whose sudden, thoughtless throes describe

we call it sports entertainment
because the loser gets paid for face sex
because losing is hazardous, a chafing, mitigated by a humbly acute sense of self-worth, against the adoration skin inspires; a naturally elegant social discretion and precocious acumen

the inherent difficulty of the game rests exclusively in the obscurity of its object. here, points are taken away for getting a pimple, not staying in the city but for dying, or falling into the idealism of the dead, but points are irrelevant. gold earns you extra boobs. Often I wish we were permitted to return to levels we’ve surpassed: black pits and mushrooms.

i've stopped writing plays. i have scurvy, do you? i fantasize about greek shipping heirs who have copious scurvy.

tell me everything i want to know

remain you, humble servant, I