My cordless knows that its crazy today when it picks up this shit- from a zombie girl I regret having known. This is my answer- transmitted with a faxmachine fused into a CB radio antenna, since she is not allowed to hear my voice. -crackle....zork 123- Huston? Zombies on Uranus?- I remember you. Back then you were so smashin! Told me that the secret to writing was emotion, and even called it the holy key. Fuck me- what a load of shit that was. Let me paint a picture of you, with my eyes that now aren't scared to be honest: Loose poems and loads of worn notebooks; the long history of love turned crusty. Who knows how many boyfriends have been added onto your purple hate list- little notes scribbled in the corners. Brandon is gay!! I hope he gets arrested and assfucked in jail- JERK!! (pencil drawn broken heart right by it.. touching) That is what fills your sacred shelve contents, and you even thought about publishing it too- fuck me dead with a plasticbag. Having wallowed in this, your work hasn't changed- still a jigsaw puzzle deformed a million ways from sunday. Unbelievable- picked up the phone at 2 am just to hear your voice: "Hear that your some kinda fancy artist now." <a moment of silence.....> "No- I'm just a meth addicted underdog with a pen, who the fucks this?" <very emotional whine> "Its Linda! What the hell is wrong with you?!" "....Linda? oh." *click* My ears made me swear not to listen to those who want to sob into it. They also refuse to hear the same stupid questions. Must keep my promises these days, plus theres no more free counsling for you now- YOU MUST PAY ME for the privilege of listening to my voice. Should have recorded those wasted nights spent on your trailer porch- its sad really- you weren't fuckin smart enough to get it when the gettin was free. If you call me back collect? Murder with a twisted coke can-got that? -crack...sizzle....zombies on uranus?.....don't buy a UFO...ever...End.-