Drives me Crazy

It feels like someone is tugging at my insides... while punching me in the kidney repeatedly

F train games

A man. looks like my father. only slightly less handsome.  with a narrow forehead and a sunken face. eyes deep, deep in the back of his head...his head, shaped like a parallelogram. Reading the New Yorker. Married or not married?    

Married.  

Who would marry him?

An old woman. Clothes barely hanging onto her skeleton body just like her skin.  Pretty indistinguishable.  Brown curly hair. Is this a miracle or a bottle?  She's disappearing as i watch. Beautiful in the ugliest way possible.  Many rings but not on her ring-finger.

Not married.

But I'm sure she was married while she was alive.

I play married or not married on the train.  On the A I play weave or no weave.

I take up two parking spots so no one parks their BE-hind next to mine.

Declaration of Interdependance

What the fuck is up with american idol?

and I need to take a shower.

plus it's cold

which makes me (not) want to take a shower.

but I can make you something

or me something

or sit here.

yes I will sit here until eleven.

please plus thank-you god, I don't want to get the hiccups again.

they're a medical problem with no solution. 

diaphragm. 

(not) the form of birth control.

I made you

i made jake and a bird

Ode to Snow princess

jake and snow princess sit by my side.
they just ate my pasta
and here they reside
snow princess, your beauty astounds me
your necklace feels like boobs.
the end.

Trapped in the Elevator

Creepy heavy breathing man wears a rainbow scarf
Creepy heavy breathing man makes me want to barf
He is so fat that i must shout
"Please gauge my eyes out!"(Creepyheavybreathingman)
and perhaps my ears
because he appears
to have some trouble breathing.

Pimple Migraine

He walks in late. With his cambridge worn sweatshirt, scruffy beard and greasy hair. He asks for a "writing utensil", in that strange accent I'm so accustomed to hearing. And then I see it. the pimple. the pimple just asking to be popped. Sitting there on the side of his face in it's ready-to-burst glory. I want to jump over the desk and squeeze it. Popping a pimple is like taking a shit. It hurts and takes a little pushing, but after it's over, the feeling is so satisfying. Maybe I'm the only human being who can admit that taking a shit is satisfying, but it's the truth so there you have it. Anyway, his face is like the moon, or something like it, full of craters from previous pus filled pimples. I am seriously fantasizing about popping this pimple. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Obviously this is all I can think about for my entire three hour class.
Crazy.