Barfing And Eating It

"Barfing And Eating It"

I started throwing up stars, moons, planets, the sky, clouds, and the universe.

They were in my libation.

I can't remember my telephone number because I never call it.

I'd forget my name if other people didn't call me by it.
If I switched names ever day.
If everybody did.
Hello, who is this?

Must be a wrong number.

Dementia 202.

Class requirement.

Now I've read you all.

The message is my medium.

Before I ever get published, I'll be shooting around the moon in a wheelchair.
I punched a horse in the mouth.
He is now wearing a bra and dentures as a man - "falsies.

There's a woman artist on the internet, who swallows
paint, then throws it up on canvas.

My friend, Henry, says her stuff is really a mess.

Talk about a cathartic release!

              
He's seen her artwork on canvas and on the floor.

Like a Jackson Pollock.

I'm like a Seinfeld episode about nothing.

At least, that's what Henry says.

Sharon is getting sick of me sticking my big ass through the cafes' doors.

Weird garbage.

Always buy Alfred E. Newman's Own.

Wouldn't fake my life for all the teabags in China or scumbags in the world.

It makes me so sick I could barf my brains out.

I could even throw up my own writing.

It smells like gourmet writing to my nose.

The odyssey and the idiocy.

Odysseus who was mute, like me, and heard sirens.

By Jonathan Billet 12/02/12