Episode 16 by Sheldon Lee Compton

I've decided not to sleep for five days.
I will ascend on the sixth day and make it holy
and eliminate the seventh day all together.

There is nothing lucky in this pig shit place,
least of all a fucking number.
If I were George Lucas's stepbrother's nephew-in-law I'd be:
Harrison Ford and Sinbad would play me,
except they wouldn't.
Their daddy never taught them how to play the Sheldon.

Embracing it is the easy part,
squeezing hard enough to make it bleed through its pores
is the fun part.
I just drove 3.17 miles screaming to the bell tower of my lungs.
Now I can't speak.
I'll have to explain to people in the morning why I can't speak,
without speaking.

Maybe I will shit in my hand and write it on the wall.
Maybe they will cut my tongue out, just to be safe.
I would immediately command my broken tongue
to slap them in the face,
then lick and make up.

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