And--Donnelly

just when i'm relieved to see her gone, some light in the distances flickers on. and i start to wonder what that means? maybe we aren't just simple machines.

the dawn pounces with surprising ferocity and the sun's rising like some monstrosity burning us ruefully with cold, pure animosity i'm not feeling so hot, morning's an atrocity a robot is to be envied, rusting like our brains, but never suffering, like we who feel our chains chafing us and making us bitter and suicidal, accomplishing nothing although we aren't idle. do you ever feel like it's time to go, but you can't just yet because life moves slow? there is no progress, only fear and regret, and we all hurt, but we ain't felt nothing yet. the dusk floods and sinks our ships, the hot, black nights cracking like whips, and we t

nothing's ever enough don't tell me it is and God treats us roughly even though we're His disappointment's recurring before, after and during every bullshit so-called life nothing but sorrow and strife what good's tomorrow? not one bit, don't be preposterous. you know this, be you pre- or posthumous, life's pointless. does it ever end? we're told that's guaranteed. do we ever have a friend? certainly least of all when most in need.

butterscotch pudding clogging my pocketwatch i received from sasquatch, a gold-plated gift for my retirement. i was always his most trusted barber. chocolate ants cover my rusted razor, if i lick them off, will i cut my tongue? are my tetanus booster shots even current? i'm not in the mood today for lockjaw. been busy trying to clear my clogged watch, wondering where my imaginary friends ran off to. they said they'd head for Seattle. well, i guess their new numbers must be unlisted. i am still so sad and listless, as i lick the pudding the best way i can. i would've preferred pistachio, but i'll take my butterscotch licking lik