thoughts on the new generation of writers...

I think stating that you think something before you write what you're thinking is repetitive and sounds stupid and is stupid and is a waste of space and a waste of letters and narcissistic.
"that's a thought I just thought"

when will words start to jump off the page again? come at the reader with knives and cleavers! Unplug the deadpan sinkhole! Are authors attempting this today? Are they in the twenty-something generation? Who are they? Allies, come forth, or lie down and die! Bring your words to life, come out from the shadows, move out from your parents shelter, your prepped up and cotton filled studio, unzip your hoodie, drop your diapers, lay down your pansy gown and drag on...show me your guts you filthy swine...yes! I like those dirty teeth you bare...take out your earplugs...show me what you're listening to and play it louder, aw that stuff is shit man, come on, get some soul into ya self, god dammit, get on the floor! jesus...get some blues in your bones, (and you there with your blue boner...HAH) death don't have no mercy in this land! Be a rolling stone, what? You gotta move! Go fall in love, and bring it on home to me....give me shock treatment, you brat...and I'll come right back and beat you up with a baseball bat.... think about the laws of motion:

1) a body at rest will stay at rest unless acted on by an outside force
act and let yourself be acted upon (or, you sit and rot, unaffected and unaffecting)
2) F=MA
become a force, and USE the force!
3) for every action there exists an equal and opposite reaction
challenge other forces! Don't assimilate mindlessly, eh?!!!


...

comatose stigma

the blinds stick still by the window, and I am all about them

in my room, dead, dog, laughing at commas, lit trend heroes, 2 second gifs, memes,

thinking alternatively about maxim's hot 100 women,

and behinds, fine, fine, yoga booty...

curve, hip center, sway inward like record revolution, music melts at the center,

distracted by bladder. pee in the dark.

taco meat smell faint through the kitchen back to my desk.

back stretch and again crumpled in the chair. 

fart cushion, flattened cotton, the 2 dimensional qualities of

distraction.

your mom...

that's what she said...

the gap is bliss...and holes are everywhere....

I'm only walking so that I can fall accidentally.

something about the way of the body...pleasure IS the time killer,

and I'm encased in glass, a glass man,

forgetful, wistful, meaning less and less when night deepens and turns...

everything has bellowed out their bottoms, and emptied out to reform what they truly are...

which is...

...