The club at night. The monotony of an endless desire. Brand new forms of locomotion. The walls we erect. The deathless beat of insincerity.

The Giant Man asked me my nationality. I said “short.” And it became obvious that the Giant Man didn’t get my sense of humor. But I got his.

They vacationed in Thailand. They visited wondrous places and ate spicy foods and went to the bathroom a lot and so never vacationed again.

The yelling stopped, finally, and he said, You rhymed after with laughter, and that’s when the violence began. She beat the shit out of him.

The music turned morose and he found it saddled with pathos. But his friend thought it was saddled with bathos. And then the world exploded.

He put his fingers through his hair and sighed. The colors of the room were wrong, it was obvious. We can’t feel sexy in here, he confessed.