|choked to death in an abandoned roller skating rink.
||[Apr. 1st, 2004|10:26 am]
|||||crown me king feat frank black- cactus dress for a cow girl||]|
sometimes i feel a little like kruschev. "you think i'm fucking joking? i've got these nukes, see. 50 megatons says i'm not fucking joking." i guess its april fools day, & i guess i'm an april fool? well bring it on; i'll stroll right on towards the fucking cliff. thats not a dog barking at my feet its a warg, etc. in fifteen (15) days i'll be twenty-five (25) years old. all i want for my birthday are weapons. please purchase weapons. if everybody wants to chip in to just get me one gun or something, i'm okay with that.
you know the way paint peels off of carousel horses? i'll tell you a secret. it doesn't always reveal hollow plastic shells. boy, it could be all kinds of things. there are all sorts of places where the world gets thin. scuba tank down to the bottom of a pier & you'll see what i mean- those things go on & on, bridges from here to forever. all of my monstrous angels are just a hairs-breadth away from the world. my so-called empire of "bits of broken bone & brain." trephenate your fucking head & you will find me guilty of the truth.