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thirtieth, dec sitting in my old bedroom with a generous helping of reverie on my plate, i'm mesmerized by the small morsels of my self that i've left behind. simply having the littlest taste leaves me quite useless for hours. i steer a borrowed car through the streets i grew up on. i'm going under the speed limit, slowed by a preoccupation with things past. shit, we used to smoke stolen cigars and light bonfires in those woods, ripped out to accommodate castle-like houses for so many rich fucks. crunching through the brush one day, i discovered a colorful bong where that kid's basketball hoop is now standing. the sadness i stomach feels like the friend you forgot to call back so many months ago, the sweet cat you couldn't move away with. god damn it, trying to be somebody's giving me a fucking headache. there seem to be so many beginnings i can't decide upon my first step, can't even choose between my left or right foot...so many decisions: they've got me sitting in a languorous stupor, stuck as a nobody. trying to calm the throbbing of my temples, i smell that you went absolutely batshit with that cheap cologne, hoping to cover up the secret of your smoking in the bathroom. well, it's really too big of a secret to hide successfully and the many arms of that fucking poisonous scent are one, two punching me right in the cerebellum. though smoking's not a bad idea...anything to get the ennui to roll over, i guess. i peel the mail open as slowly as i can and savor the final rip because i know that eventually, everything's going to grow so quiet again. i can hardly stand it anymore! i worry that my final rip's coming, coming, coming, i worry that i want it to come! but then the phone rings or i feel the stomp of your foot on the stair and i manage to untangle myself for a time. |