Life is as follows:

There are two types of people in this world;
Those who swish Listerine in their mouth for the directed sixty seconds,
and those who do not bother counting.

Her once perfectly

smooth flowing

synthesized slender tan

legs of sex

that could anaerobically

snatch the ozone

of toxic oxygen from

within his lungs

is now smooshed particles

of snake ink

arising like swollen jelly

in a peculiar putrefying

albuminous substance

known as the bacteria

of cellulose.

GOD is a Black Hole

These days I don't watch television to enjoy myself. Quite the opposite actually. It's a tortuous event that can only be related to a hummingbird's insatiable need for sugar to survive. As if the electric humming of the glowing screen is a bug zapper and I'm the idiot moth who can't stop looking, fluttering around aimlessly until death. Bzzzz. Zap. Pow wow. Watching such programs like Housewives of the Criminally Insane leaves me feeling like how I imagine a fly feels, being trapped in my bathroom for days until starvation beckons the insect to become daring (ultimately leading to death by cat). What is it about the Television that is so GOD damn addicting? I like putting his name in caps, as it makes me feel like he is listening, and or reading this incredibly entertaining blog.

All is not lost though. The Science Channel has a wonderful program, narrated by the messiah of narrators himself GOD (aka Morgan Freeman). I've learned some things on this channel I cannot remember. All this complex stuff about parallel universes we as meek mortals will never understand or see. Some other shit about anti-matter which I feel like any child could come up with (of course there is something dark and deceitful out there and since we are made of matter-let's call this stuff....anti-us).  I'm rambling now. I started this blog post to put into words my new take on this silly little thing we call existence. So existential of a topic. I'm hoping that foul word scared away potential readers so that this blog will forever remain a secret and no one else ever ever can see the universe as I now do. Evil laugh now? Not sure.

GOD is a Black Hole! I've recently adapted a new, and very vital principle. Scientists will forever be charged with the task of somehow putting answers on the questions we shouldn't know the answers to. They think now that our cosmic universe is nothing but the regurgitated contents of a Black Hole's ralph. throw up. pukey puke. And I believe it. This of course is based soley on the quite pathetic amount of information I know about gravity and the mother of all gravity babies; the Black Hole. Basically they theorize we didn't come from this big bang (no shit) but rather the product of a Black Hole sucking up matter from some other universe and squeezing it so tight through the incredible amount of gravity Black Holes create, and spitting it out the other side of this "event horizon." I can believe this because energy cannot be destroyed, only transferred. So it gets all chewed up, like spoiled food stuffed down my garbage disposal, and gets wrapped up in a glorious new box called our Universe. You follow me? Dig me? Hug me? Awkward

I don't fell like this blog relates the amount of information necessary to fully defend my point of view, but basically this new "discovery" puts a knot on some loose ends I had.

Sometimes I feel as if I am getting close, but then the commercials end.

The picking you up and bringing you home lines

The picking you up and bringing you home lines.

By Nathanael King

This is my interpretation of a poet trying to pick up a female at a bar.

This is what I imagine he might say.

I will devote the depths of my swimming fingers

to your holy canyon.

I will orbit your stoplight

like a thousand pulsating pedestrians.

I will punish your ivory Bell House

until your monthly blood decides your ropes need a break.

I will calculate the infinities of length times width

in your early morning solution.

I will theorize the probability of traveling faster

back and fourth in time

only stopping to rest on the moon of your ornament

two, maybe three times.

I will divide your cells with my atmospheric rod.

I will sojourn my perpendicular girth

into the swamp of your pocket

for as long as you keep treading water.

I will sway my pendulum

left, then right my Eve

and ask you to rename the ovulations in this kingdom.

I will co-operate the satisfactions in sequence

with a sliding barrel-organ

so long as your economy

reciprocates in rhythmical undulations.

I will tend your perennial

until it hoods in full blood.

I will pound your beach front property

with a frothing ebb and flow.

I will till your soil as an earthworm

in a garden vase.

I will quietly supplicate the fastidious organ

of your alter.

I will unearth every artifact

in the hallway of your museum.

I will delicately delve.

Foot note: works best when whispered.