do i feel any different? not really, it’s all the same.
from small town, to small city, to bigger city, really, everything feels the same internally. there are more cars and more people, but, it is the same. greener. more coffee… when you close your eyes and think of the hotel bed and all the older people in the bar drinking since it’s vacation or five’o‘clock somewhere.
drift again 2000 man.
did you hear them yell: land damn it land.
i dearly hope you can.
for me. i keep waiting for a deeper breath, a slower realization, something functional to elevate the fact that the highlight is laying on a pre-made bed and reading until my bed time has past.
“i guess they still don’t understand.”
we all keep waiting for something to strike a chord or feel more authentic then the last.
maybe it’s just me.
maybe i’ve drank too much.
dig in deeper, my friend, i’ll keep telling you it’s a defensive reaction of my central core. i’m not really a dick, it’s just the way i cope. cope? cope or cop out. one of those. depends on the reflection in the mirror.
depends on who is really saying something. when was the last time? or the time before. like the last.
what i told you a friend of ours might be dying? i guess it wouldn’t matter. because, really to call someone a friend, we might have to know them.
————
pardon my rambling, i may of had something to drink.
bid you good evening.
he doesn’t have cancer, he’s just being introspective. the doctor will say he’s alright. by proxy, we’ll all be okay.
he won’t see a doctor.
he won’t tell anyone anyways. secrets kept.
——————
are you giving in?
i am sure am.
test tones and failed drones.
are you giving?
huddle in, i’ve only got one match.
“i just met the swellest dame… she smacked me right in the kisser.”
the glass key ’42
bending twisting trying the make the edges sharper like a samuri suicide pact strings tied on every finger and still cant remember what went wrong cant function unless buried get the shovel youve got a lot of digging to do i think she feels forced and in turn so do i because im sick of swinging while watching others climb into tunnels smoke in the air carbon dioxide in the air even the trees are letting off steam most nights the lines keep getting longer like last year
its all just a build up for nothing
you cant call blood then forfiet for semen there are holes everywhere like a dam but no pebble, rock, or finger is ever going to pacify it
for a point of focus, eyes closed, breathing deeply. wondering things about life there is no easy answer to.
i found myself reaching for the bright red nail polish and did my left foot. so carefully. maybe, i need to get some of that stuff that fixes your toe nails, the two smallest ones have sort of a harder looking nail. the polish covers it all.
tell me about your growing dependence of alcohol to feel alright, we’d have something in common, we might share a creeping sense of dread and maybe a true delight in filthy language and a lust for the undead.
in a few hours sleep had to come, clawing desperately away from me, the shadows made from the lamp move not at all. which is fine, which is better then i’d imagine, it’s okay; time is stopped for a moment.
———————————
for a point of focus: eyes closed, breathing deeply.
nothing exists.
done.
done.
done and gone.
let him be the shiny bit of metal. all full of promise. all full of light.
are you listening? reading between the lines?
none of this tastes like skin.
it feels like being alone.
sleep. wake. shower. dress. think. stall. sit. wait. count seconds. sit. think. leave. drive. smoke. think. drive. smoke. coffee. sit. work. fail. think. smoke. coffee. work. think. leave. home. hide. think. play games. hide. think. smoke. quiet. dark. sleep. dream. fail. rinse. repeat.
he: it’s a very good movie. if you get a chance to see it you should.
she: it looks like it would make me cry. i pass.
he: probably would. you are right. i didnt forget you are a big baby. i just forget that i am a glutton and actually invite sadness into my life.
she: [popping bubbles] its different. you and i.
he: haha yeah you are usually sprawled out on door steps holding a bottle of champagne because you can’t handle the vodka anymore. popping pills. slurring how you listened to him again.
she: right. is that what is going on tonight?
