BEGIN Gambling Addiction

This is my mouth. I plan to use it to roar at you. I have to remember to not choose my words so obsessively but to always say the thing in my heart that needs saying from me to you past all the robotis semiotical nonsense. That is not my way. But I could learn.

Whatever do you think of the weather?

I plan to start a church of gambling bank. I want to find the tao of people's strength that gives them irrational blind faith and tap into it. I want the world working behind me on my side and not the other way around. I want a magic mountain that I can sing about from my bicycle seat soapwinebox.

One day it can be done. Why not re form it all in the image of the creator? Why not steal the money that way that robin hood said he would. Why not ask King Ludd to sleep over in the attick. I have over 60 million plastic bags and I can use them to cover the heads of the 60 million of brainwashed people that will not be converted. We can cut holes in the bag so they can see and breath but they must learn first to understand the suffocation of all this plastic that they keep
pushing pushing pushin.

Will your sexual ambivalence rule the day or do you desire to take the herbs that will render you virile? Don't you want to connect under and up on top of there? Or are you afraid.

Fear is such a shallow prejudice. I try to keep all of my prejudices xenophillic, xenophallic, entering the realms of the unknown that will forever change my world even if you don't knowtice that I am staring at you underneath of it all.

Control is the button that they will always push and you leave your body to make it into a Golem, a robot at the will of the mudd in your ears. Will you not see me forever in your heart after you have tried to forgetten me? Will you still sing songs with a minor harmonic melody that remind you of the empty feelings inside of you that you are so busy trying to run away from? Why do you not listen to Britney Spears? Are you afraid to stare the nothing but emptiness in the face that harshly?

Beware of the terms of service sir or madam. You speak a lot of revolutionary antics and put on a good show whatever but then you chain yourself to the floor on the bottom of your words of change page and plan to not allow for the sharing of the bounty the feculent fertility that only a true body vessel for change can inspire. Empty empty trademarker copy this copy this copy this and never more. We must remember that the place we got the idea from was either empty or full and we never could have made it that way. I am with you too and I fear the armoured vigilante. But the task at hand is not building up of guns surely the most heroic and defensive security measure for us all to adobt on September 11th is to ride our bikes naked through the street hurting none but for the UV poisononing sunbeams let through by apathy and our NATURE is warming and the change is more universal than just global. You can try and leave the glob but the university will keep sending you Alumnis direct marketing fundraising emails.

If you start doubting me, then I continue to doubt myself. I wish I had the power of these rivers beside us to bring fish into the brains.

I know that love is a silly affair and only the lovers know the smile of death as well as we do. We dance under the red moon because that is all that we can do, it is our best offering that we could even conceive of and birth control is not an option.

Whereas the preamble to this constitution is not yet written and whereas the words written down will always be fleeting: the kind of prison walls that rust and cannot hold our truth any longer. The truth is that time changes and that is why we go to that department and that is why you are still alive today: because somebody has allowed time to pass in a meaningful way before you and gambled of your truth becoming.

Is only I could walk into a room full of strangers and throw down all of my possessions onto the bright green felt lushness and the archaic card dance in their elaborate theocratic mystical charade and you and I look I to I with one another and we are not strangers but fighting against the odds for survival and to give to me a token and in the end it is all won by all of us and not just the one rich buddha who lucks out on the crap table. Charity gambling is faithless adultery. Usuary was outlawed by the bible but who really gives a shit anyways if your stocks are up from the hurrican katrina aftermath oil surge? Jesus died on that fucking cross and he is not about to come back and take the gold from your grubby little stubby artless fingers. You will die old and from cancer, or in a feiry car crash suddenly, so you like to think. The apocalypse is a sustainable industry that has been keeping the product moving off the shelves for 6 millenia. At least not we have the sense to keep tabs on all of it with our data recording devices. You really can shove 1000 songs up your ass and remember that a song was once meant to be the unbreakable covenant that kept human beings in love against cannibalism. Now we eat so many songs with our robots that the Cannibal corps is just waiting and biding time: skeletons need not fear or worry that any efforts need be expended to propagate their downwards spiral. We all plan to walk right off the tallest cliff and we have built very elaborate safety devices for keeping ourselves buckled into the solid rock lest we fall over too early and not from the tippy top of the tallest mountain peak.

Skinny falling over the head heels I slide down the greasy air into the depths of blue the airplane is receding from view and the big flat surface of the earth mother opens up into an impenetrable fortress of steel that will rock and roll until your lazyttt soul is fully erased from god's black sky in such a way that no more stars will twinkle. The least of all these dioxins in the atmosphere shall set your brain off more finally than under over. No more poo because plastic concrete isn't made of brainwaves it is made of solid crystal lattice that poor imitation of steel frameworks never able to collapse in a heap of burning wreakage. We know the vapogas whispy plastic smokestack fume heralds the overwhelming desire of the republic to erase itself the 1 and the Zero must be worshipped at all costs.

No, no, no, that is all wrong. You do not wish to leave on such a hopless despondent air. I need to tell you a heartening fairy tale where loneliness is broken and the spell of magic markers does not bother to whiff up your high. But our nature is not playing the same cycle of rebirth under the setting sun that you hoped for sustaining the wars of loving old. You must feign the romance for the unbeleivers. It is too late for any other course of action. Built the masterpiece song, find the dance and sex. Love will either be able to conquer or it will not, we are here to force the balance off and the polar must be releaved in the massive impossible extreme. Consult the dream of death and the dream of life now! We need to solve this or break the question fast because the other outcome is Zero and fanatics wish for that perfection now govern our lives through art music storytelling politics, food distribution mobility education... the word.