mhhh... Head hurts... Heart racing, jumping... I feel over-caffeinated or strung out. Chest takes three beats at a time, quite frustrating. Tense fingers hit springy keys and clicky plastic buttons, tiny volume knobs and little rubber push switches. These aren't connected to me, although I sometimes imagine they are tied up to the essence of me waking up, or of me tuning in to the world.
Good point, click the shit off and take a shower. It's probably just another R Kelly song or a book by Grisham, cranking out their byproducts like some petroleum factory. Or maybe its new porn too, showing me what its like to unleash and unbridle sexual frustration, or reminding me with a painful lash of things that my lovers are doing now to others.
Nothing is sacred... Nothing is pure... Ill look for some Talking Heads instead, and perhaps some pictures of beautiful women working on oil rigs or fishing boats, dressed to kill in rubber slickers and cool weather rain gear, just sluicing out the product that we are all engaged in doing.
You make it, I eat it... Good morning my crooked little earth.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment