Yes, it is one sentence. Eventually I'll record it and post it on youtube I think since I'm not likely to go to an open-mic night in the next few months.I am standing on a goddamn stage screaming my lungs out and I'm not convinced even one of you thinks about why that is let alone if I'm ruining my health, when all I do is cough up asthma and fluid trying to choke your fucking air out with my smog in vain hopes that you'll keep quiet for five seconds so I can get my head straight and think about how I'm going to eat tomorrow or how I'm going to keep myself from killing a man the next day, or if I'll ever know what it means to take a life that doesn't grow in rich bastards' organ gardens, or if I'll figure out if anything means anything even though I'm already convinced it doesn't and I am too fucking stubborn to ask for your piss-poor opinions so that you can ramble about an irrelevant idea for the next thirty minutes while my legs ache and my lungs ache and all I can think about is that I need more pills and maybe a drink or two to calm my nerves and break up the sentences that mate and miscarriage inside my skull just to tell you that my day was "all right" and I'm not in the pain and suffering I'm in that everyone seems to promise yet refuses to hear about as if my illness is somehow different, and my back doesn't ache in quite the same way, and my loneliness can't be killed by starting pointless fights at bars and losing teeth just to prove I've got the balls to rape a girl when I turn thirty and want to raise yet another fuck-up son so he can say the same things to me that I'm saying right now.
So. Um. What are your thoughts on spoken word?