I Don't Really Want to "Work," Alfred, But I Will Write

Stuff, thing, task, etc.

Most likely I'd rather read Gone Girl. "Amy had been fond of recollecting stories of men obsessed with her."

Or, cogitate.

Dust the shelf. Should I do that first, like a man, before the window guy comes?

I'd be a God! Or next to one. Maybe shower. When your hair's short, though, you don't need to wash as often (is that gross? only to neat-freaks, I guess. and plus, I'm an oily bastard, so I should scrub myself on-schedule.).

i bought the body wash with little grains in it, for your pores

(aka Bat-caves under the southeast wing). thank you,

CVS, for your discounts

and for not selling cigarettes to tempt me

(Century 21 isn't bad, if you're reading this from the past or future, although I can't speak for real estate

0 0 0 bubbles 0 0 0)

fuck you ISIS

there's no menthols anymore,

past the blood-brain barrier in my head

P.S. sorry for creating you

********* time breaks a few manors down *

there's a fountain or two, so i guess you can call them Wayne,

ha ha (no heath ledger here, thanks alprazolam + oxycodone...

that's not a joke )

but it was a good call, minding myself. Caretaking of the Joe took care of the work *shudders under the noun expounding transfer of energy, like Mr. Freeze hit me THACK! in the lips or something with an ice cube*--

Yabble-yabble

Afterwards, I watched Batman, the Beginning, 2005: cooler than I remember. Toes the line between cheesy and great,

just like chicken parmigiana.

Now tea is brewing, Katz's Deli tempts me from the fridge (my friends and ex-roommates FedExed it to me, since they're impishly, unfrugally beautiful).

I call it the long-range butler move,

because I'm too lucky to have a drone

deliver me gifts

I only have people

(just like you, ISIS)

Every breath is necessary sandy ballast

for our pert, imperfect little human dirigible

Especially when your mouth is full of mustard and hot pastrami

far outside the Brilliantined lights of Gotham.