I was talking about Babylon 5, you know that Star Trek Spinoff.
That was Star Trek you know.
Man I’m inspired by a woman that I met over the chips to tell you that you’re not in love with an alien
Nothing alien about love, even alien’s know that
Alien love is just about the most unalien thing going on in this room right now.
I see some very weird shit out here tonight
Folks I’m not afraid of saying what I don’t like to say
Folks I’m not afraid of telling you what I don’t like to hear
But I think you should
Because I’m about to rock your world!
Most African American Spiders are made up of more than 300,000 baby African American spiders
That’s some math for you all
Now check it,
The white America, is home to everybody, so put away your gun daddy we ain’t need nothin’ more to talk about
Yeah well BLAST Daddy, cuz naked like most things ain’t much different is they?
You got your vaginas and your penises and your disambiguated genitalia and every hair of difference in between therein- or out, as the case may be, there were many
I’d seen cases like hers before, but none stick so in my mind’s eye as her case file, that fell into my lap twice one Monday morning. I had a real case of the Mondays and red scarlet whispers scrawled on yet another wall in yet another bathroom with the devilspeak written in reverse to be read on the mirror by the slowly dying- one just read faster- that was me, one read it as was written they were dead, and one read it from a place no one knows and repeated such poetry on mirror themself. Below the second stanza a slight movement in the mirror, a glimmer in the glass, just a flash, hand down thumb up in under the coat, they’ve got the jump on me, I wouldn’t have the time, wound him maybe, if not in the head, it’s not their style, not the killers anyway. Eyes, in the window, four eyes, on me.
“I could never tell”
“you weren’t supposed to”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“I mean yeah, I mean if I’m about to die, which I am, yeah it’s definitely enough of a head scratcher to want to ask now.”
“That would suck, sorry friend.”
My world explodes
hand down thumb up in under the coat catch trigger, grip, pull-
ripped shred from shed, point blank back shot shotgun blast
later it is deduced that the impact took out a portion of the killers thigh
The Scrib Nibbler is still out there, writing in entrails,
But they’ve picked up the scent on the trail, now riding Scrib’s end trails
If you know how to track, like I did, the last of us, the trackers.
I really look forward to the world my children will live in.
I think my generation is here to change it, not just for the better
But to turn it around, so that my children’s generation can run along that exponential curve of possibilities
I am making the world that goes on forever, today,
But the world won’t go one forever, for me.
Because I was born into a world that spun the wrong way
Things like money or power or fear ran it round and round
Til you couldn’t squeeze a lemon to get anymore sour
I raised up my fist with an iphone and said “This is the future” while raising up my partners black transgendered Mexican midget hand to my hip and said “this is us, this is tomorrow” any werewolf in the herewolf pack can fuck who or whatever they want, even people- EVEN PEOPLE!”
Someone once said they’ve got Panda Bears in Pandaria that have married harems of orcs and elven wizards. There’s a drove of druids driving daisy chain gangs to drink with their love butter but of all of us humantypes no one’s harrier than Harriet’s Level 18 Mook Tinkerer toying with toddlers on odd podcasts for pedophiles and pediatricians it’s a Pedobear show, and I can hardly bare it.
“Bare right, we need to get to mom’s place first.