Well I have managed while sick to make sure to expose myself unnecessarily if not daringly to the cold wet air. I have made sure to sit in the most uncomfortable chair available near an opened the window. I have positioned myself in fron of the black mirror just askew enough so as to cause back and neck pain. The only reason I haven’t been smoking has been out of pure laziness. And now after finding some coins in a pair of shorts in a mound of clothes I am ready to continue feeding my already swollen heart. How many people can actually say their heart really hearts? I can touch it like a bruise. And im loveless again, by my own doing of course. Biting the feeding hand. Disgusted at every cell of everything that surrounds me. If I had liquor I would drink it. If I had a gun, it I would fire straight up into the sky. And wait with my mouth open for the bullets to fall. If the sky was glassen I would surely try to break it. If I could summon an earthquake from the Earth I would. If there were a button to push…id prefer a trigger.
You know you’ve had too many when you start organizing beer bottles. And as I do in a joyful noise, I am reminded of the Shepard in all his biblical scope. And of that traditional Chinese dish, the happy family…the cowboys and the Indians, and the dead soldier. Then there was this huge moth, the size of your hand. I thought a pigeon had flown in when I heard the dog saliva and the feathers. What else? I should be able to provide a picture of the dusty, broken down moth.