Terrance Gonzo’s Asylum For The Half-Baked: A brutal form of poetics

A chip off the old cock

He asked so many questions

Often the same one

Multiple times.

The thing is when you lose something you think you can ring it but you can’t cos it’s only your keys

But what is that lumpy thing in the corner of your eye?

Sorry to hear you’re feeling ill health yourself.

The American said ‘Hi, I’m Les’

‘Less than what?’

I almost feel I would know if something was going to happen to me, like I was going to get attacked, or end up in a plane crash.

But I’ve thought I wouldn’t be surprised if something like that happened to me in the past

And it didn’t.

‘the crow is the symbol of death… night.’

I couldn’t sleep last night.

Thought I’d go for a drive

Travel always helps me nod off.

The text read:

If I get through today without kicking someone in the fucking face it’ll be a miracle

I thought I heard my clock but I’d already taken out the batteries.

For some time the cosmos had been telling me to

ignore time.

Or rather: ‘the clock’

The tyranny of the clock

A waste of time

in that anything’s

A waste of time

What use was it to know it was 3:30pm when I had nowhere to go and songs to write?

You’ll never get there and you’re already there.

I was always anxious. Was it me, was it the world? It didn’t matter.

Samey? It was five minutes repeated

I better eat, I thought, I don’t want to be puking up bile later

A burp passes over my tongue

a cross between sardines and corned beef.

It must be scary to be a sardine.

Hokey guts

My humour was constipated

I squeezed out a laugh.

There were all sorts of things that could go wrong with this Luis character.

Yet still we went with him

Locked in stride

To The Bucket and Rollercoaster

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