Preferrably Today
(written on February 25th, 2006)
 
 
            I was robbed by a very attractive woman yesterday, and I'd just like to recount my reaction to the experience, for you. She had me held up, face to face, with her weapon pressed against my body, and she asked what I had that was of value. This is what I said to her:
 
"I've got this,
Obsessive scapegoat blamed for human connections intimately unplugged usually during contradictory masturbation wireless USB keyboard was utilized,"
 
"I mean, I actually tried to adapt to this,
Out reach politeness tactic splintering fractal chia mechanicism planted in my fleshy attic when clearly not nearly enough room exists for such custom built cacti that persist to bloom poetics peach seeded sub text please disregard whom I'm franticly within fact I lasted awkward track past these soapy social interactions,"
 
"But I still can't seem to control this,
Key in the back of my head in turn geared toward device hands belonging to your attractive bracketed habitual bodies that fascinate calculating negativity as eye contact fractioned vices,
Mere snacks smeared selfish never satisfy such fucking potent emotional contraband this list of miscellaneous Random House polyamer my pie charts cleverly relish understandable stammers and stains,
Crack rock continuum crumbs of avenger painless remain calm under fog fondness promised,
Inside gymnasiums of reality crossed limbs dodge cobblestone obstacles as if drama was pavement,
Landscaped ticking my face becomes anxious clock tower archaic gear systematic lust for climax I struggle to control time,
Uneducated sleuths I become bring home sexually transmitted disease infects my change jars every relative coin befriended,
My opinionated uniforms enticed I now believe no anatomy bank security team can ensure insurance against organ heists,
Seriously,
Are you amazed that I maintain during days of brain cave in,
Lost,
And I thought I was nearly safe when,
Across from slouching imitation on the couch,
Sits upright inspiration proudly bathed in surround sound doubt,
While contemplative clouds get down on me,
Drowning me,
As if I was the very center of gravity,
Grounding these incoherent spear tips,
Impending icicle,
And I wait melting points at the bus stop on an emotional diet cycle,
While structure fires are currently burning my architecture to the soft serenade of a mandolin,
I now urgently thrift shop Life Long distance relationships celebrating my manufactured celibacy as a single mannequin,
Perched in focus between oscillating dream aisles searching for the perfectly intoxicating telescope that can show me some fucking corduroy I can afford to date,
Preferrably today,"
 
"This," I said,
glaring directly down the barrel of her glistening pistol iris, "is what I have in my possession, and I would gladly, be mugged, by you, right now, of all my emotional currency, because I have no where to fucking spend it."
 
And then she shot me.