Big Bill and the Lonely Nation, Part II PLACES TO GO TO DIE
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PLACES TO GO TO DIE.
I forgot my means for motion. I felt all wet and loop-holed like the ache of some forgotten cheese. But then my ends found me, clamped between. The door and doorframe of some purgatorial delicatessen. At some shitty bar while playing pool, a local in a silk-printed Hulk shirt told me to never give up my dreams. Can you be so depressed that you change into a monster? Not green, but blue.
Roaming back to my bearings,. Working 17 hours a week at Staples. How many times have I thought about. Stapling myself to the employee announcement board. And waving at the boss when he walks by to refill his coffee? And he never notices. I let the fantasies of the mundane take hold. I have no idea what I actually do everyday. I kept a daily journal but realized it was full of lies. I tried to smear the pages, but realized it was a bologna sandwich.
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Big Bill and the Lonely Nation, Part II PLACES TO GO TO DIEDESCRIPTION
Your hand on the nape of my neck. I was puking everywhere that night. I couldnt feel my body, just some vague sense of wet. Luckily, water is the most clear-cut shot at redemption. I promised to fall like an ocean into whatever arms presented themselves. I let myself fall again and again . I want to be a cold-blooded lifer walking the warm-blooded beaches. Im so tired of all this skin. Look how far Ive flowed,. Sympathizing with the physics of a procession,.CONTENT
This web page big-bill-4.blogspot.com states the following, "Your hand on the nape of my neck." We saw that the webpage said " I was puking everywhere that night." It also said " I couldnt feel my body, just some vague sense of wet. Luckily, water is the most clear-cut shot at redemption. I promised to fall like an ocean into whatever arms presented themselves. I let myself fall again and again . I want to be a cold-blooded lifer walking the warm-blooded beaches. Im so tired of all this skin. Look how far Ive flowed,. Sympathizing with the physics of a procession,."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
Roaming back to my bearings,. Working 17 hours a week at Staples. How many times have I thought about. Stapling myself to the employee announcement board. And waving at the boss when he walks by to refill his coffee? And he never notices. I let the fantasies of the mundane take hold. I have no idea what I actually do everyday. I kept a daily journal but realized it was full of lies. I tried to smear the pages, but realized it was a bologna sandwich.
Gummed stuck in the meated huff I thought of fishing trips,. That time I saw Grandpa tear his webbing between hand and thumb clean out. Haste was thick and rising. The bass lay in the boat, gaping. I took the hook out.
I caught myself drifting again, metallic pluck of iron sent me hauling. My dreams, allowances, or dismembered muse babe.
I awake from a carousel feverdream. Has kept me pressed against the seat. Between the laughter is a guardrail.
We made a deathcamp together, remember? Canvas and sticks in your backyard. We could flex so far we split straight into the back bending light of tremble. A wormhole ripple, shivering. I knew then we were too good for one another. You never learned to stop transcending. I felt afraid of you before I ever saw your gleam.