2002-02-14 shotboy. i was wearing a prom dress... & i was down there in the dirt, i was digging a frantic hole in which to bury the dietary dictates of indigestable dogma... everyone is so hungry & given false food disguised as leisure time... someone said to me, Let the dead eat hostess potato chips. approved to be sold with deodorant as amerikkka's most wanted repetition....an image of regenerated disintegration.. aired frequently in order to effect successful hysterical mass imitation... for those who get high on the dust of the spectacular.... ...& no one will know what really happened, because the camera angles were all wrong... but i couldn't leave until i found a suitable replacement... finally, i settled upon a barbie doll... & as i escaped thru an electrical outlet, i left barbie sticking out the other end of the socket... i'm feeling quite dizzy & nauseous but i like it... because the beating wings fill my ears, & i feel full of that sound, & it takes the edge off that empty feeling of invisibility & disintegration... carving broken glass & making wind chimes. someone said to me 'you do not exist', & i said 'this is my body..' someone said to me 'you are not a legal tenant of this world',... & i said 'this is my blood..& this is my blood-stained sheet.' ..someone said to me 'no one will respect you if you believe in nothing.'.. *i said '..but i DO believe...i carry my past like a bullet.... & i said ..sometimes i wish my words were sharp enough to cut my own throat..to take me beyond the idea of the fear of death... inside my head... my head is full of butterflies.. & i can feel their wings beating on the inside of my eyeballs & its making everything i think to seem fuzzy...fluttery... after i came down i couldn't talk for three weeks.. how many senses did you miss out on while you were alive?