Lome Marsupial/Leemonster creations

 Since I can't sleep, and have excessive nerve damage in my tooth and infections in my mouth from  a halfhearted, vulgurous dentist who can't handle their own shit,
I thought of writing about this town in a transparent and direct way.
But wouldn't you want to leave this town before you say anything harsh about it or it's plebs?
Not at this point.
I mean, are you kidding me?

I reached out with love at first.
What I realized this place was, filled with the heartless and most buzzkilled of absolutely wasteminded dolts, I'd turned to realizing this place will gaslight the fuck out of you. You do not get fair shots here.
After that ugly fat headed monster of an ugly soul of a woman cancelled my gig the very day of, as I showed up to it, I realized how much of a bunch of pungent, witless fucking boars this whole lot really is.

The crudeness of the existence of this town is a worn out and plagiarized obscenity.
These predictable, haphazard walking fucking dopes are some of the most hazen and useless souls I'd ever wish I hadn't had to describe.

It's pretty much my mission to destroy them, at this point.
The predictable fucking boneheads.
My friend turned into a fickle putz who admitted to liking Yoko Ono, and so
there wasn't much of any other choice left really anyway.
The fun factor of anybody divebombed into a recreational low.
These smarmy little cunts depreciate five on a dime,
and the big deal was that you get absolutely no help or comrodarary from any of these dopey
lifeless motherfuckers. They'll say they're your friends but they're up to their brim in shit.

Like do you think I give a fuck anymore? I had two other shows and no one showed up to any of them.

Then these people try to say hi to you or act in such a way.

1. this town has an aura of a smoldering endless pile of shit

 

2. iunno maybe some people should pray I die rather than get this infection thing healed up. If I am healthy and re-energized, then I can begin doing things more smoothly and focused again.

And after being this damned gaslit, may very well start turning the gear of some sort of ceaseless machine.

Songs and projects and forces of good and evil.

Egregores, Invocations and remembering ever still that I'm the only one that has my own back.

I can't say a single prayer, any more, I'm sure.

But it's either recover medically or induce a coma.

And I guess in a way, I do believe the "Devil,"

and it's the orchestrator of an ordinary life

or calls for kinship and hearing and feeling silence.

~

Like a toast as to those who are doubted.