1113

Whatcha think a decade or a dozen years maybe typing on this here Internet? This old Internet. All kinds of experimenting. Lower case. Punctuation no punctuation.

Games: JPEGS with the faces cropped out.

Cybersex. Yeah. You remember sweet babies. Don't act like you didn't do it too.

And earlier typing right even before those days right
typing on word processors typing
on electric typewriters typing
on typewriters
writing
poems in composition books.

Poems that looked like whatever writer I was reading.

Right?

Like all the development of a voice type of thing right.

Right?

Never no goddamn money. Well okay money. But not MONEY right.

Right?

But always women. Beautiful crazy women. Beautiful wanna-be-saviours women. Beautiful writer women. Beautiful women arriving on airplanes and in cars paid for by parents
by ex-husbands
by themselves.

Beautiful women who fall in love with the words but tell you that you're different in person.

Beautiful women needing somewhere to stay.
Beautiful women with fat bank accts.
Phd's.
MA's.
MFA's.
MS's.

Artists.
Activists.
Alcoholic sluts.

Girls who like lapdances.
Girls who give lapdances.

Cocaine.

A collapsing of stacked decades.

Sexy panties.
Period panties.
Cotton panties.

Sleeping.
Snoring.
Arguing.
Lying.

Leaving.

You wrote every word for them. Didn't you?

You asdf Cassanova.

You pimper of the phrases.

And here you still sit right?

Right?

Asking the words to come out once again.

Asking for something but you are not sure what.