I'm seeing a blur. Can't make out any words so I'm squinting and pretending I'm not blind. The rate of repetitive re-reading is dripping and pooling around the leg of my chair. Making a puddle of wasted seconds. That I will eventually step in.
I don't feel like cleaning my shoes tonight. I think I might need glasses.
I figured it out while waking up - while half asleep.
I am just a pulse induced by some metaphysical "hand-holding" with the universe. I'm the sudden rush- stuttering a clumsy mess with clammy hands and dilated pupils - passionately kissing a (familiar)
for the first time in their future.
Actually, I think that might have been last night's wet dream. Wake up. Blink.
Check the clock. Pull on socks.
Get the fuck outta dodge.
I hit the streets with my bandanna on. My gun belt and toy gun. Gonna shoot 'em up. shoot 'em up and stick around to get my nose involved.
High from the burning smell of gun powder sparked in a harmless little cap; my harmless little attitude.
I am
Where the strings of his guitar are vibrating in a mild fashion around my skull (stinging like vinegar in a flesh wound)
Where I can't place a face - but absolutely everyone looks familiar. I'm sure Ive met them all before.
And I am neither here nor there- its a solid hiding spot where laughter is made and I get it. I get my own inside jokes.
I watch a set of lips as fat, full words drift into a common place (and dissipate).
As common as - - doughnuts and coffee - - or couples spooning all across the city.
You might feel strongly
You've found a soul mate
But they don't all need to be your lover.
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