And Then I Thought I was a Fish

IDENTIFYING INFORMATION: Peter Hunt Welch is a 20-year-old single Caucasian male who was residing in Bar Harbor, Maine this summer. He is a University of Maine at Orono student with no prior psychiatric history, who was admitted to the Acadia Hospital on an involuntary basis due to an acute level of confusion and disorganization, both behaviorally and cognitively. He was evaluated at MDI and was transferred from that facility due to psychosis, impulse thoughts, delusions, and disorientation.

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Observations of a Straight White Male with No Interesting Fetishes

Ever wondered how to justify your own righteousness even while you're constantly embarrassed by it? Or how to make a case for your own existence when you contribute nothing besides nominal labor to a faceless corporation that's probably exploiting children? Are you clinging desperately to an arbitrary social model imposed by your parents and childhood friends? Or screaming in terror, your mind unhinged at the prospect of an uncaring void racing to consume the very possibility of your life having meaning?

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Noware

This is the story of a boy, a girl, a phone, a cat, the end of the universe, and the terrible power of ennui.

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⬅ Books for monies

Pez Dispenser Head Chinese Delivery Man On Moped

Composed on the 24th of November in the year 2007, at 6:33 PM. It was Saturday.

Pez dispenser head Chinese delivery man on moped

you are my hero


Little girls and boy in the tattoo shop

beside my cigarette break

drilled my ears with talking

beating chests paler than mine

carefully to avoid hitting thirty cent spiked

fashion adornments, carefully

to avoid dislodging appealing chain necklaces

smoking carefully

to avoid being caught by policing

parents


They go under the needle at high city prices

because they are sure they need me to know

they have giant balls


But You!

Your helmet rides on your head as a giant

white bowling ball rides a lane to dive into

pudgy white pins

shading your eyes half closed over the smoke

from your dangling cigarette

sparked before you even left the building,

maybe before you woke up yesterday morning


Pez dispenser head dispensing smoke

with no hot air

on a lightly jacketed frame in freezing cold,

you mount your moped lady with no unnecessary gesture

and ride into long hours


(I never saw him blink)


Pez dispenser head Chinese delivery man on moped

you are my hero


Your rocky face won't crack when you do your work

Maybe your head tilts back and dispenses sweetness

But for now it won't even tilt forward to acknowledge the


“That kid is so hard core” shouted by

the misinformed witness beside my cigarette break


I wonder if a taxi cab would bounce off your hard candy core

if it hit you on this raining night. I wonder if

you would get back on your moped lady with no unnecessary gesture

because your job

is too hard to allow for

proving how hard

your core is supposed to be


Your cigarette is no break for you

your smoke halo dissipates around your giant white helmet head

and your moped carries your eyelids that you don't bother to blink

(the rain moistens his eyes)

into the dark hours of the morning


Pez dispenser head Chinese delivery man on moped

you are my hero


Please come back and shoot these fucking kids

interrupting my cigarette break

because I don't have the nerve to tell them to shut up

Go ahead. Your monitor will be fine.

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Hi there! You should totally go buy my book for the low low price of 6.73! It's like buying me a beer at an out-of-the-way dive bar in Brooklyn! Not in Manhattan. Manhattan prices are ridiculous, though there are a couple of decent Irish dives where you can snag a drink for five bucks. Otherwise, you're looking at a two or three book beer.
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