CAUGHT IN MY EYE

Hello You,

I notice I haven’t been around lately, but that’s what happens

when you stumble and fall into some funny lagoon like a haystack-haired

Tina Turner in Hi-Ho-Heels, loves a big fat fulsome lap to fall into when you’re in love—nothing’s wrong, sorry, sun’s out, bright future, no calamity coming down on me to write my way out of; no problem, Dr. Filth, I kept records, plenty more to come.

So I ran over to my PSB Snakepit Community and made this month’s

attempt to straighten out all the crooked thinking that goes on over there, seems one of my twin-flames ended up calling Dr. Bob a fuckin dipshit, head up his ass, too stupid to be borne, where did you get your medical license

from, moron, a box of stale Cracker Jacks, so I go off my meds and defend Dr. Bob, then next day find out Dr. Bob blocked me 4 weeks for sticking up

for him.

And for the last time

don’t come back

til you can behave

like a nice,

everyday

chemical formula!

So 4 weeks, then I’m back in, right on schedule.

Til then I’ll just keep reading Darby Crash’s biography, learn how to

negotiate my way through the wreckage he left behind.

That hyper-aware little virus had his shit together, I am irate that he

did himself in.

Is there a scholar around who can convince me it’s not your fault?

Useme@troublewaits.com

Thanx again, Germ-Killers!

I’ll give you silver guns to drip old blood

Let’s give this established joke a shove

We’re gonna wreak havoc on this rancid mill

I’m searchin for somethin even if I’m killed

Lexicon Devil

Darby Crash, self-declared social heap

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