yo
i mean
i want to stay home
gnashing on percy pigs on my bed
and getting sticky fingers
because i'm not really eating
but sucking on em like somebody's watching me
and maybe shoving my sugar digits
down into my incomprehensibly neon underoos
twisting the thought of pretty boys who call me daddy all up in a tight knot in my tum

yo
i mean
caaaaaalllll meeeeeee
let's dress up in Lisa Frank and silk and listen to Robitussin dreams aired on the radio from Atlanta
we'll challenge ourselves to not touching intoxicants til the sun goes down
because
as you know
days feel loveliest when you are up early
and nap in the mid afternoon to smoke your first cigarette around 4
let's play "everybody's watching" and act accordingly
HEELS, DIP-DYE, INSTAGRAM, FOOD FIGHTS, WHATEVER, DUCK LIPS
and then around 9
i'll take something
you'll take something
so we can see the whole night
when morning rolls around
let's pretend we get paid to eat breakfast
"any kind of work is drudgery"

i'm not going down with the rest of the downtrodden
so put on your candy-colored socialite suit
act accordingly

more robot theorizing

what is robot?
robot is
anti-individual
un-aesthetic
spiteful
(how do robots feel spite, you may ask. I save this as an exercise to the reader)
predictable
boring
and, most of all
robots follow the code.
which code? any code they're given. but they must follow it.

When you need to cross a busy street, do you wait for the walk sign or for the lull in traffic? why?

I don't hate all robots. there is value in code and protocol. however, I find myself aligned against them in the interest of freaks and shamans and mutants everywhere, because the robot code is capitalism's code and I stand for a DIY ethic that is quickly losing its place in our society. Thus, I must take a stand for individual weirdness, against the robots. Let it be known that I do this mainly for my own (metaphysical) amusement. My anger may have arisen out of sexual frustration, but by now it's become something much more valid and serious.