Sunday Into Wednesday

Sunday planted in the middle of Wednesday looking for one lady wondering where she might be if you hear from then you will let me know or call me and if not then just tell me about your aborted day how it went down say it back like a recording or a tall intimidating man from the morgue recognizing you addressing you as ma’am don’t die, keep writing, she says I live with a writer who has the philosophy that once you stop writing you’re not a writer any more, or says write, you’re a writer, don’t write, you’re not—that’s me, that one as seen on teevee teehee uncomf. go back to bed america, we’ll bring shit right to your door, eat up america. meanwhile the man I was employed by to help him get into office waits for the election to come and once it does in the end he loses but I still cash the paycheck and We tried, tried at least and at the bar I tell the lady that we must redefine our definitions as we go along to ensure we become bigger brighter people so at this point why not discuss and redefine masturbation? I say it’s release and enjoyment and we continue to do it because it feels good.

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