Chairwoman of the Suicide-by-Assassination Committee

My delts, my pecs, my lats and my traps, Mi Puerco! They are so sore from carrying around:

the weight
of the burden
of the knowing

that I am holding you back; from the actualization of your sexual self. Because I should really just lighten up and stop caring and give you my blessings to do your biddings.

But the cost!
Bleeding christ on the cross!
The cost!

I am not sure it is worth it. But I am beginning to think it is not my place to decide, because I am only an appraiser and I am only paid for my opinion and I don't broker the deal.

I cry
I cry

and I don't know why, but that's because rich people like me never understand anything, like the value of Fendi shades or how a person can get so broke(n) when they are born with a greasy silver spoon hanging out of their stupid mouths, like a wagging dog tongue. But I've turned it off before and I can do it again, if it is what you really want, and that is not a threat, it is an offer. And when I'm done drawing up all of the detritus in to a dustpan, I'll get my pilot real clean (if you know what I mean) and take a vacation then come back as the automaton-tronic wife of your wet dreams and we'll ride off into the simulated sunset, feeling:

the spitting analogue of happy
in the synthetic warmth
from our virtual
equivalent
of love

I can go back to living and dying in my head. The lies do smother, but not to the point of asphyxiation. My heart gets heavy and my hair gets long, and you'll get high and I'll get low, and we've just got to breathe in, breathe out, and remember that it all boils down to how the serotonin flows in our heads.

Oh, heart, of what is it that you're made?
It's blood, and blood can be remade.
I know because I cut you and looked into your veins.
It's a long ways down from the tallest building.
But its the radon in the basement that eventually kills you.
The average man is 35 years old.
Owns a car but would like a better one.
He's overweight but he's working on losing it.
He'll have sex with 7 people.
And will fall in love at least 2 times in his life.
He will have 3 incidents of infidelity.
His brain weighs about 3 pounds.
He loves his wife but would like a better one.
He will spend 3 hours per day watching television.
And 3,000 hours in front of the mirror shaving.
He has a face but would like a better one.
His penis is 5 inches long when erect.
He works 251 days, gets 6 federal holidays, and 10 vacation days.
The average man is living for the promise of tomorrow's gimmick.