this is the best
I spend most of my time masturbating and smoking spliffs. Walking through my room, my head hitting the tin-arms that I’ve hung up above me. These are to remind me to chin up , cause I always walk scraping lips across the floor.
Yesterday I hard-boiled so many cartons of eggs it could fill a toilet up to the brim of the lid you sit on and read about black widowers.
“Did you know black widows float in hot air balloons?” I ask.
“I wonder what that would be like…” you say with your nose, “that would be the best.”
“Did you know the hatchlings eat their brothers and their sisters? They need the nourishment to survive,” say my eyebrows shadowing my eyes.
“that would be better” you say.
I smoke and blow It into your face sometimes, asking: “did you know black widows only need to mate once to lay all the eggs they ever will In their lives?”
But you just shit on a heaping toilet bowl of hardboiled eggs.
