waiting for death like a cat that will jump on the bed I am so very sorry for

drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end o… of wine, I have typed from a dozen… poesy an old man maddened for the flesh of young gi…

Just give me a little atomic bomb Not too mutch just a little Enough to kill a horse in the stre… But there aren’t any horses in the… Enough to knock the flowers from a…

death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies

a woman, a tire that’s flat, a disease, a desire: fears in front of you, fears that hold so still

I can see myself now after all these suicide days and n… being wheeled out of one of those… (of course, this is only if I get… by a subnormal and bored nurse

The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry? it seems they want more, it seems almost as if they are angry

drunk on the dark streets of some… it’s night, you’re lost, where’s y… room? you enter a bar to find yourself, order scotch and water.

with an Apple Macintosh you can’t run Radio Shack program… in its disc drive. nor can a Commodore 64 drive read a file

I got in the shower and burned my balls last Wednesday. met this painter called Spain, no, he was a cartoonist,

when Whitman wrote, “I sing the b… I know what he meant I know what he wanted:

“what?” they say, “you got a computer?” it’s like I have sold out to the enemy. I had no idea so many