Beloved Friend

Beloved Friend,

I am writing this mail to you with heavy tears In my eyes and great sorrow in my heart because my Doctor just announce to me that I will die in few months time because of extent damage of osephageal cancer. I have been suffering from this dreaded sickness for long, base on this development I want to will my money which is deposited in a security company to an individual who is willingly to build a charity home for orphanage and abandoned kids.

I am in search of a reliable person who will use the Money to build charity organization for the saints and the person will take 30% of the total sum. While 70% of the money will go to the charity and orphanage. I am from Sarawak Malaysia, my husband died 6 years ago as a result of car accident. i don't want a friend or someone i know to handle this project. I want the actualization of my dream to establish this charity home to come in reality even while am dead.

The total money in question is $3.5million dollars. I will provide you with other information's once you indicate your willingness.


Yours sincerely.
Mrs. Razak

Streets of the Pan-Americano Nightmare I. II. & III. OF VIII.

for: Marko X

I. THE PAN-AMERICAN HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS AND PERSONAL GROWTH

There are one million
salmon-colored skulls
that live in the folds
of silver hands-

golden brain matter
where gold matters in the darkest reaches...

New age tragedies
are playing out in my nightmares
& my insecurity
is making a mule ofambition-
smuggling the "goods"
through a traffic tunnel from
immediate family
to ancestral pre-conception.

"HICE CHINGAL!"
such breeding is a question mark that has bent itself
into an obtuse angle
standing next to a sign
that says:
REST STOP

The theories on virtue & free death
are being smuggled in
from a cartel of Nihilistic
endeavors.

The words:
"Beware wronging the hermit
&
if you wrong him, kill him."
are being melted
in a silver spoon.

A sense of overpowering lust
is being loaded into
a hypodermic
& slowly
inserted into the varicose
veins of a distant future.

I wake up w/
the overwhelming sensation
of the frosty shade of a sky blue.
I am aware
& have never had to shit
so bad in my life.

A costume once belonging to an action figure
packaged in plastic
& calling itself the OVERMAN
-is found in the back of the toilet floating
just above the plug,
before losing itself in the current between brown water
& brain matter
between truth
& wishes
between dreams
& livelihood.

An innate obsession w/cannabanoids & caged
street violence is reviewing the itinerary for me-
that spans the next 20 years or so.

A dark baby boy has been born
too early in the farthest depths
of information-
where long forgotten salmon-colored skulls
are slowly shaped into marzipan &
sold in the costumed streetsof
DIA DE LOS MUERTOS,
while I attempt to pull apart
silver clenched hands.


II.FROM BORDERTOWN TO THE LOWER EAST SIDE

Brute force & lethargic posture
are patrolling
'la burros de la bordertown'.
The real borde
rthat's receding too fas
tin order to construct a proper wall
to keep them in-
el freaks
y' la
tools
(spit).

Something of a mystery
has latched onto a vile of wisdom.
An iota of home
has purchased a small room somewhere
very...very...
close
& while it stares into the darkest reaches,
it dreams of cat turds in rose beds & green diarrhea hanging from
an open window sill
on the freak's side of town.

Shrewd silence is tickling
my funny bone
when someone on the fence speaks up
about corporate downsizing
&
Proposition 19.

III. EAST TO WASTE-AND ON TO 102ND

A meeting somewhere
in the bowels of the Lower East Side-
there's a room of self-absorbed tools,
playing circa jerk
1980 HIGH
& reminiscing when it was just
good wholesome fun
& not
a burden.

They're calling each other addicts
& when THEY disperse-
some gather small armies outside
some become soldiers themselves
in a gang of unmitigated circumstance..

some are falling by the waste side
some are circumvent
some are cum receptacles
some don't even know THEY'RE alive anymore..

An electric snow bunny
has just boosted for the last time
& never bothered to roll over
even during the pivotal moment of survival.

She is no longer plugged-in,
and the batteries die slowly
as the Freaks continue to count the votes:
"And the totals are in!"
54% to 46% majority
have passed the new law
banning further introspection
based on loosely based-faith
and schematics of an influenced brain wave
that is sweeping the fair nation.

This means that 1 out of every 3
cabrons will contract the new-age
illness & attempt to seize control over themselves
through means of sating an intense sadistic fetish
&
immaculate cognitive design.