Took topamax. Can’t drink beer anymore.

Battery operated shenanigans, gin, kittehz plottin’.

Found perfect mascara, life temporarily tolerable.

Wrote novel. Quit trying all else.

Considering smartphone purchase, will never buy.

Heart in nature, lived amidst sprawl.

Have a cold, life sucks again.

Can’t be thin enough for Mom.

No talent, just delusions, drinking problem.

vh1 overdose, can’t sustain intelligent conversation.

Utterly unwarranted case of self confidence.

looked in mirror, googled plastic surgeons.

winter of discontent spanned entire life.

I drank your milkshake and plagiarized.

Sex, drugs, rock & roll, death.

{Jim Morrison?  Is that you?}

Fine with body until joining gym.

Common sense suppressed, nonsense his downfall.

F5 F5 F5 F5 F5 F5

Ate cake, got fat, rediscovered bulimia.

Played with fire and liked it.

Watched ANTM, learned to eye smile

Joined mile-high club with a homosexual.

{bisexual, but like Phoebe says, Then there are bisexuals but peopole say they’re just kidding themselves}

Shared too much, lost cyber friends.

Watched ANTM, learned to eye smile

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Lived with irrational fear of six.

Had sex a lot until marriage.*

(*working title: “Your Name Here")

Joined mile-high club with a homosexual.

{bisexual, but like Phoebe says, Then there are bisexuals but peopole say they’re just kidding themselves}

peopole: ‘chili dog’ only with #1?

Ate Monkey Brains. Didn’t blow chunks.

Fart pushing cube boundaries. Need match.

Drank organic big berry tea, micturated.

Mad mod poet god. Plus two.

New coworker aint grateful. Fuck him.

The Freidrich Neitsche of his generation.

Born, ate, shat, worked, wailed, died.

Lived to the best of his abilities.
(Fuck, that’s seven.)

Lived with the regret of nothing.
(I like that one.)

Did many hallucinogens, seeing better now.

Went there, did that, moved on.

Good, bad, happy, sad. Fuck France.

Had Obama’s baby, sued him, won.