Greatest Living Person
You and your five humors ride that pony ride that pony.
If you want to hate me, hate other people instead.
My mom is the best. Wanna know why?
The blastosphere is aging.
People giving other people advice about form --
How much whitening does a bile straightener have to think about itself
to be called super-ironic and the audience given one dead muff after another
but still I must have your family on my side.
I'm just needy I guess.
I haven't pissed in over four years.
I need Maury's email address because I need to camp in his back yard
to watch him raise the sacred elm groves for Christianity.
he went to a woman for the first time with the latest tactics
against some horrible time-eating purulent old me
I e-mail the ground 500 times a day with arguments about pedometers
that talk and say maybe we could do something together.
Money is not important to me: Christianity is.
The *only* interesting thing here would be a miracle,
that's how Christian I am.
Both of them are going to be missing out on Borked croutons of choice.
I was so impressed with what you did with the little girl
with the club feet and hands, how you got a wheelchair
to become a cogent, bare-faced defense of using Robert Bork
to dedicate to people who act like every Shiite-eating
bandaid where I have a PowerPoint presentation emanating
from my clichés of alcoholic behavior.
he leaned over, and the person repeated it to him quietly,
"with homeland security and computer for personality,
we need more people like me, who will lift the spirits
for thinking _of me_" But I snow all day,
due to the retrenchments. I will keep supporting
and praying for suburbia and no one can tell me not to.
Hock up your life. Only twenty years ago people
only slept with some other person once, don't they know that
that's all it takes? The guys often say they don't have their eyes
or they do that important rowing motion --
rowing out to sea alone for no reason
when we only have an armful of hourglasses left!
My comments are a strong-willed child,
a wish of blond hair and blue eyes.
Pathogens are alternative paths through life.
You feel implicated by this?
that's how a sparrow feels when people used to it to shrug off
lot after lot of martyred dancing bears.
I'll go forward, the rest is history,
so near to coming true that I have no support from anyone
Don't be nice to the mystery of life.
Before the show got started, there was a dance contest of sorts
(get other set of friends again... )
You should know a few things about me.
I've never lost a father figure in my life. Ask my father.
You and your buddies are just dreams where no nearness is
high school reenactments of your middle voice
smoke signal made of smoke that smelled like the Ganges.
Why anything I do here bothers to contact someone
is my dream of being a young movie/tv actor
where there is a struggle for a branch that represents absolute power.
I am a baby with a chain letter. Too bad for me.
There's a person I hear from them every three months or so,
confusing the coverage of *your* problems with the days of the year,
doctors don't think time of day exists anymore anyway
I would be willing to pay for a nightmare,
but I'm still going through time and space -- why?
And why are you worried?
a Nobel prize is not in any position to tell you how to run
as far as you can through a baggy t-shirt.
I want you to make hate a mother that never wanted me.
Crickets: either they have the five humors or they pray to God
that the real world comes home one day,
because the fantasy world has become so depressing.
I am a fan from Australia and I watch you to make them seem
like preferable company to you and your
making fun of yourself and your them.
I couldn't throng this year, same as the old year,
so I thought I would make the rounds now to show support.
A lack of grimace made the heart pound, made the mouth whimper.
The ow and owl.
First I wanna tell you I love your use of resources
that'll look great after you're dead.
and watch everybody else from the afterlife
for couple weeks - I'm sure you'll find a job there to.
I'm trying to illuminate the ballast around me
Me trying to make you feel implicated is hopeless.
Maybe when I'm dying Easter eggs,
kindness will to be removed forever.
Maury flinched slightly, took a Seiko off his wrist
and flung it at the person actually reading this.
This legitimate need to be ignored is now being violated.
You are a Bishop, true enough.
Janeane Garofalo is made out of pancake cancer.
How to live? Ha ha ha ha ha.
Maury, you are nothing but either of us.
She's in the last couple in the world
"It doesn't matter! Come on up anyway!"
A few young welcomes from people who don't know better yet.
Personality? Shrug... I probably think this song is about me,
captivated by the holy rugs.
As soon as I saw Maury I knew I was the Greatest Living Person.
You ought to start being nicer to me.
And nice = fleece. I just need email... I need it to help me on a search
for my never known father about why everything is so offensive to me.
My blackout Falstaff *superworried* clothing
comes to her instead of me again -- that's my lot in life.
It was like trying to shop for a Mack truck at 60 mph on Walt Whitman's face.
I cannot alliterate paths through the social universe
with a sparrow thrown at you by individual letters of your own rightness.
I shrug off lots of believable young people
I am always, always right. I'm also afraid that I may not survey
the landscape at night.
I help myself to the ether.
I want to give my co-webmaster a makeover.
He parties like it's 1988.