Passport picture. If i had one. This is the way water melts. This is milk getting sucked back to cow that feed the baby, sitting next to me. And this is a trigger. Will you mind pulling one? i am kinda busy. Cigarettes do not taste the same. I will call you right back after I come. Walking felt like egg shells walleye. Music here, people there. People where everywhere. And in the hand, there was a bag. The bag contained: Bottle of Jack Daniel's and post cards. 1000 letter meant to be written. Thinking of second amendments and silencers. Although, who can wish for a silent gun? Fire works make the population smile. Phone lines…. phone cards. Excuses. Days get shorter. Everything feels like vintage christmas. Tho it is still the end of summer. Tho… no, it is a first day of autumn. This is the first day when you can close the drawer with swimsuits, put back all the dresses and memorabilia, cause you know, it is over. Sick of the slaughter.
Food is good here. Come on over. I put out all the books and leftovers of busyness to pretend something more is happening in the golden circle. Slow walking motions and raising beat that pumps to much blood to the head. As it needs more information to process. Word word word. There is a sea of words. No, not exactly a sea. More of a puddle. No, not a puddle, more of a gutter. Exactly, a gutter of unnecessary and over used quotations and misspellings. Middle of the world is colour red. Beginning the trigger mission. I want to make you pull it. Bullet under the neck smells of classic 40's perfume. High class bell jars. Vacuum on the top of the playground.
The trigger for banality, as the passage of need for happiness. Human contact is excessively over rated. Or is it just another trigger to pull the plug. The plugging and unplugging is a historically compulsive event. Documented. Tho, if we eliminate the essence of thought process the only thing there is left is - the plug. And then I ask you, my dear and hopefully horny reader, do you feel the plug or do you prefer the trigger?
And so behold the holly minefield, the pulsation, the beat…. The compulsively overrated inhaling and underrated exhaling. Bikes and concrete. Chew on my red nail polish. Tastes like…. rubber. They think to good about each other. You are a good girl. I think about the ropes in the closet. The skeleton in the mezzanine. The raped social dignity. The supermarkets filled with essentials of the season. The pharmaceutical vaults. The missed theater halls. Unfilled sketch books. The genteelness and cold of the floor. The spill. Crime scenes.
"If i could be anybody in the world, I would be a professional Cinderella"
Good night and god bless,
Good night and god bless,