Blank page, blank space between the space and timex count down to nothing,  no pop, no big bang theories of post modernistic expression the new impressions of devils and angels both I stand silent, I disattached from my antennas up somehow I lost and missed the point hence the resting out on the lowest slight chance we'll make up the broadcast news at eleven, and maybe see some blood inside the city gutters
And through the sewer drains I feel the discontentment of the universal channel system that hasn't faded to blackness, not yet. Yet not quite enough comfort to ease the swell vision of sporadic patience for one moment that's passed, in an unnatural semi-neutral anti national, loose cannon now swivelling awaiting for the happy heal giveaway
I spent my thanksgiving with a fork in my eyeball, and stabbed my motivation (?????)
Dying cast oh we're crying it's the end of the night, lying I swear it ain't lying, it's the end of the world, staggered thought, staggered dream time as the seconds tick tock, staggered rotations corroding, all aboard to those futuristic jump ships, stop the idea, jump ship, jump ship, we're landing in the toughened glass body buddy finder(?), community based whorehouse, public service reminder, leave your impression if you're crying to rejoice (?) scream loud and could we have a broken fucking baby, and the dancing baby blue eyed jesus statue corrodes because the Christmas lights have burned out the shells of the condos, and the still standing schoolyards block the smell of the fireworks, and the mistletoe now stinks like a thousand miles of baby ass, and if the baby asks why it's cause she looks cute in the oven, and that same community whorehouse can't provide affordable lovin', close bracket, end of idea, no end of the world has passed now we're suspended in animated ideas, lost in travels of a distance not reached, set up camp in the greatest sweatshop under any omnipotent beast, and at least we'll have a broken glock party to play with, hence putting together for the giants, drink out the thumbprints in silence, happily snuffed out yet easily get slave under an empire of peasants, so we were all left in a state of eternal entrophy and my sources indicate there was no ending of the century, as strange as it may seem nothing fell apart (x4)