Poets and writers drink more intensely. Smoke more intensely. Worship God more intensely. Poets and writers fuck more intensely. Poets and writers give more willingly-- spilling the alphabetical marrow of their souls out into the albino sonogram of hope that is the page, hoping some stranger whom he or she has never before met turns to his crafted syllables in time of dire need and somehow finds solace, finds laughter finds a friend.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Mayan Calanedar, maxi-pads, and the end of chornicled time as we now know it....
..Thinks that the highlight of the world cataclysmically capitulating into a wink of ontological nothingness on Dec. 21st is that (judging by the neon pink bulb circumferenced around the following calendar square) my hot Mayan girlfriend purportedly is scheduled to have her period on Dec. 22nd...TRUST ME!!...faux-Armageddon is nothin' compared to the tampon-hurling wrath of a menstruating Mesoamerican..Holy Q'uq'umatz!!!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment