I was squirming in a pile of vomit outside the Cricket Lounge - m4w - 27 (Bloomfield/Oakland)

It spewed out like the wrath of God, carrying the fury of the devil and life itself with it as it splattered across the asphalt. Nine hobos all in a circle, losing their minds as they were, each of them, sucked in and caught up in that emetophiliac temple. I don’t know how I got caught up in this. Something is happening, and I am unable to explain it. These vomitoriums are commonplace now as they were in the days of Nero and Caligula. The kids are worse than the hobos though. I was ingesting large quantities of table salt in the Famous O’s bathroom. When I came out I saw it. Men whose bodies have become twisted and emaciated by the poisons saturating the air; David Icke was right, these kids of Oakland all look like reptiles with iPads for faces; in a way it is sweet that they look at every piece of innocuous minutia of existence and capture it forever in an instagram, in a way it is sweet, in a way it is devastating; I don’t know why they’re collecting this information, and I fear to know what they are using it for. I of course was one of them at one time, if not one of them, then I was in their company. I took some bad acid at the Wakka Flakka Flame show and I’ve been getting headaches ever since. I don’t feel that way much more. Now I just feel sick a lot. You helped me for awhile, and reminded me to take my medication via text message - it was three times a day; I wanted to avoid those headaches, they were nasty and debilitating, black-masses steaming my frontal lobe like a bag of…. Remember that time I was talking to you on the phone and I suddenly became ill? I woke up at the Pizza Hut, naked and rolling in broken glass, my head shaved where they put the stint in. Before they called the police I was instagrammed of course. I don’t know what for. You bailed me out of county. You said it would be the last time you would do that. But next week when it happened again, this time at that Kinko’s when I began mutilating my body in the back of the store through a series of deep and precise paper-cuts to my genitals, you did it again; You said I was taking advantage of our relationship status on Facebook. Perhaps I was. Perhaps it was a mistake to do all the things I did, but I kept doing them, for whatever warped reason I kept doing them. It’s just those heights of love, destructive and merciless, that makes a person do those things they do and while they’re still in love the other will keep doing those things they do. The other will be taken advantage of in the course of this hurricane, and they’ll pick up and leave one day, and the other will be on Missed Connections at 4 in the morning. I just wanted to impregnate you, and then not pay child support; it was in my genes to do so. Now I just want pancakes.