If you do not open this valve every so often then there is a chance you will start growing so tense that the dinosaurs will take over with their feathers. There is a chance you will explore. I would like to be able to writhe and rhyme—all your subtitles and tense phlegm makes my mouth taste surly. Take off your top. Take off mine. I would like to talk about being a gothic cathedral against the annals of time, I would like another cigarette, a sip of the beer. Now the judge says shut up to the prosecutor and sends a wink to the stenograph son. That is a cute boy at the table, that is a nice typewriter that says rat-a-tat-a-tat. I would press my ear to its sail horn, I would press my lips to his cock. Ah, I should be writing of filth and fairies. Ah, I should be more upright than you. It has been many days since I last did nothing but nothing is a bile in the mouth that sullies the ups and downs of the pirate ships, forever hung and hitched on its wrench. Do you have a clue what they speak of, the ghosts, the boys in the haunted house? I cannot believe how many thoughts can coexist in a brain but the only way you get to peek is to start talking quickly. I am a feral puppy dog with braids in my tail, I am wagging, I am forever a bitch on her knees. Come over here and let me taste you, come over here and I will take you like a shin. I will swallow you like oysters and spun spaghetti; I will bite your neck. The ads in casual encounters, I read the sign wrong, I thought it was causal encounters and I started to think of the physics of fucks. Would you like to play Newton to my brass band? Would you like to take me in your arms and pretend I am Einstein? They said he was smart but maybe sometimes he was also on his knees and begging for something. Maybe we are all fools and the thought of contact is faster than the speed of a thousand motorway lights. Be quiet. I am listening to my own hands tapping. I can barely see the screen now. I have written more than all of your monkeys and I am scared to stop.