I awaken and go out to hear the fuss
in my old torn bathrobe.
I'm hung over
hair down in my eyes
squinting at the stage
gingerly walking down towards the front
where I can see the seams in the
TED talker's face.
Everyone is texting
whatever that means
and listening to this woman tell us about
old dreams of whiskey
rioting while I try to listen
she is making shapes in the air
"christ," I say
gathering up my bag of piss, my pockets full
of old candies,
jesus christ wouldn't believe this
what is a smart gesture?
she asks and answers
"sit down," says a man
made out of his haircut
and bad looks from sharp glasses
"fuck off," I say in no uncertain terms
both hands birding
and these jokers,
like they can't imagine the age of 50.
there's only one thing for this place.
I'll have to find out what the Internet of Things is some other night.
This VR game has become sentient and is killing us one by one. But is it art?
Nightwatch Brigade Insignia: Awarded for hiding in a coat closet and watching God's Not Dead, God's Not Dead 2, and Last Man Standing on a 1980s-era portable tv every night instead of sleeping
If you think Hitler was good, you've got another thing coming.
These tips are guaranteed to work. Nearly every time.
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