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HAS ANYONE SEEN MY VOLCANO? Blow me and my mind. Know you have to hold me down for the pressure to build to the point where the eruption leaves me fulfilled and lonely.

I AM GOING TO LEARN ABOUT SEX FROM TELEVISIONNo one has a clue about what to dowith their hands. Despite wanting it to go smoothly,sensitive skin comes with stretchmarks and bruises around the neck,which tastes of desperation and cooties.

ADVICE ON WRITING Acquiesce to the argument: to truly resist, you must start some shit. Trespass. Sell grass. Evade taxes. Hide assets. Make friends with the affluent or else struggle as an artist.

COCKTAIL PARTY OUTFIT Tom Sellick shaves his talisman, exposing the pale skin above his lip that quivers beneath the kiss of powerless sin.

I HOPE WE FIND THE KIDS BEFORE THEY HURT THEMSELVES You are mindful and defiant, my taffy giant. Timeless. Strong and sensual. The ladder and the pedestal. The quiet. The riot.

IS IT POSSIBLE TO BE IN LOVE WITH 25 PEOPLE AT ONCE? Probably. But if consciously, it makes you a quitter. Leaves you with a bitter aftertaste of broccoli.

RUMINATING ON CUSTARD PROCEDURES If left in charge, you demand soft serve served hard. Longing for the days of manual labor and misbehavior. The illusion of choice favors those who prefer only three flavors, carry out, and credit cards.

THE CONFLICT RESOLUTION SPAGHETTI DINNER While watching Beetlejuice in Spanish with English subtitles, I panic and rush outside to the lawn where I draw the blanket over the body; gone. Daylight comes. Daylight goes. I remain stranded.

THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS There's nothing wrong with a man enjoying his crawl space. Long legs. Prolonging the length – extending and engaging the whole- some thoughts of you consuming your soul- full eyes and enjoying the taste.

DO YOU LIKE THE TASTE OF HUMAN FLESH? Free samples. Come and get it. Pick it from the bone, take your place on the throne, bare witness, and grind that meat until it is paste. Eat the grizzle. Drizzle sugar along the rim of the plate. Salty and sweet. That's the ticket.

RUN ON FORTUNE COOKIES PT 2 the art market paparazzi take their coffee blended with almond milk and frothy – extra whip – excuse me, i said they teach the children how to nae nae after the whip of the belt that carves a notch into a neuropathway that screams for help, there a pleathora of numbers you can call, and i owe knowing most of them by heart to the fact that I was actively searching for a way outside of my house the older boys harass my sister i am younger, and i am a baby- sitter, but not a quitter. do you know what rhymes with suburban syndicate? disturbingly innoncent. burdensome affiliates. bourbon surrogates. american idiots. insidious. invidious. Harry Potter can't even parcel tongue and worm his way out of that one.

THE DEFINITIVE LIST OF DON'T WAKE DADDY Rollerblades. Barking dog. Baseball bat. The orange colored clown on the TV. Barking dog. A tricycle peddled into a, now, broken mirror. The grandfather clock's chime. Shouts. Falling picture frames. Dog barking. Dog barking. A cat whose tail gets stepped on. The radio loud to drown out the sound of pots and pans; piano strings; and a child crying. Ignored.