anymore i can't lie unconscious and not have stress nightmares concerning the countless technical manuals i was force-fed during my education. the questions of morality that then plagued me dredge up feelings of guilt and worry that during my waking hours i do not have. but all fades away as i rise, this time staring at the barely rotating ceiling fan in pa-pap's shitty kitchen. it's missing a blade. briefly i forget where i am but then recognize the aftertaste of pine, and recall my current situation. my job is done, so i leave as sleuthly as i came, grabbing the bowl of antacids from the kitchen table for solitaire colon games later. i'm going to walk the nine miles home.
album du jour: blonde redhead misery is a butterfly
No comments:
Post a Comment