Poop!

Your threats are weak and your wine is even weaker. Grow some melons and sell them at the co-op you ape. Make milk from chalk and screw lightbulbs for a living. "Take the bull by the horns," I told her. A week later, she was gone. Putrid filth is what they expel, putrid filth and rotting death. I am neither a critic nor a thief these days. Your blades of grass become you.

Once I took a nap in a cemetary without taking notice of the name on the stone where I rested my head. Once up, I realized I'd been sleeping on top of Mr. Doolittle; that was really his name! I couldn't believe it! Perhaps there is a god................

Up with the sun and down with the out. Leftover spoils of war rot in the trashcan milking poor mothers' of their dairy bones.