I'm Looking for My Italian Missing Piece

February 9, 2010
I am the modern boy marvel. I have so many different ways of losing my marbles. Volatile dangerous sexy massacre of my ATM account: online poker, stock options, buybuysellsell. The ads are everywhere it’s in your face it’s in your eyes it’s the commissions, a few bad decisions, the rake, the boy losing his steak under the covers of a twin bed.

For the special ones:
the night walkers tailgating the vibrance of eternal electric euphoria with an iris that was told not to touch Propecia—

Baby could be deformed.
Baby wants to drink from the aurora borealis.

I have 999 friends, child, that I have yet to know. Write something about yourself. Duke ’13 February 15th 1991 View Photos of Me I am what I am.

It Is what It Is;

The phrase of my generation, maybe my high school principal was right.

This is how we breathe underwater, at a loss for words, well-lubricated we have no atoms to rub the vocal chords against. I sand mine down all the time.

Sand man. I made the mistake of looking back thirteen times and now I am jaundiced, my color no longer unfashionable.

where is my Home Depot?
Fly away pajaro azul

Find yourself
In a different place
In a better time
Where the going CD rate
Exceeds the increase in the price of
Bread and transsexuals—
The three best things in the world.
I am looking for a reserved federal entity.
And I’d love an aloof hamster.
It is what it is.
I am looking for my Italian missing piece.

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