skilled venison

miniature men
  -or-
(just)maintaining

(16)
things just got introspective, incisive...although, upon reflection, i am stating something repetitive. i
got errands to run and my morning pills to take. i felt a chill abetting bodily aches that my mind, still spinning, had
trouble locating. my solution is to chase nexium w/ a shot of wray & son's: 63% strong and should

help with the shakes. this day has been a day long and it's not even been (twenty-four) hours. i lit a cig.

(13)
started wondering about the possible visual similarity of a human brain scan and cumulus clouds; i thought it
was a thought worth thinking, and then, writing about, but i can't think I must
resort to my
intuition: chug some alcohol. throat burns, eyes water, decision definitely questioned by stomach. sumac goes
to red, but i hold the bile down, both figuratively and literally. it's a real tour de france in my frontal
lance armstrong and a ghost whispers 'go occipital.'

(15)
finally passed out, dreamnt abt tings. intrsting, an earlee sigbrine nukles out...woke up and said that is some
twin peaks stupid, weird shit, quotation marks enhanced. there was a black lodge, implying i have hunted. lying,
crumpled, on an ornate carpet my grandmother made, i inhale twice, exhale my dreams' vagaries and rise like a
zombie. i  notice my copy of walking dead s.2 and shake my head in reprobate.

(14)
my brain is afire, which is in direct contrast to my previous feeling of being pulled underwater.
contra(d)dictions glom on, like my attempt to decode words on a nazi submarine, non sequitur. i think i need some sleep,
but the walls keep closing in, trash-compacting. i decided to switch seats and am now on the floor flipping through
channels. my tv is 3d capable, and i have an extensive collection of cooperative blu-rays but i worry about the
eye-strain.

acrimony in the belfry

 

down sloe
  -or-
honest juice

 

 

1.
the trip seemed meandering, but so was i, at least mentally. then remembering i was on my way to get breakfast,

i started re-focusing. the car was comfortable and the music of my choosing, so i lit a cig and relaxed. the
clouds were of certain interest, while the road before me just kept moving...or i was, or the car in which i
was obstenstibly driving was moving; stoned thoughts of magnetic clouds. i passed a gas station and glanced at
my fuel situation, which was as comfortable as me maintaining my appropriate s(p)eed for the simple duration of
this trip;  i passed a waffle
house and noted the irony of my stomach grumbling and my need to complete my mission. it, like so much never
completed, could wait.


2.
the apartment was not the same i had been to before, but it was in the same complex. i found the distinct
address and parked at a discreet distance. this was gonna be a new experience only in that it resembled so many
other instances; it was weird to realize just how similar these deals were in nature, like a racoon shitting
in the woods here and another doing it in other states. the only difference was time and the participants. i
wonder, however, if by noting this observance, i had somehow fundamentally changed its existence, thusly making
it unique; i guess the outcome determines the differences.


3.
climbing the stairs i notice(d) a change in my internal verb tenses; a certain time variance. the past informed my
personal tendencies, which inextricably(?) led me to knocking on this particular door. i am let in and return
awkward pleasantries before getting down to business. i took a seat on a couch that would best be described as
not completely decrepit, nor entirely pleasant. it was not something i could make a convincing argument for
decorumly, although my aesthetic is biased by not being aware of others' economic or personal quandries; it
served its function. i do notice the curtains: they are decorated by tiny fishes, walleyes, pikes, etc. this i
found amusing as the attached porch had a view of hartwell lake.


4.
the transaction is quick and neat; no muss, no fuss. i let my mind, but not my car mind you, drift on the
return trip. the clouds had darkened w/ the sun receding behind me, ominous in a vague way, like a lighthouse in
my rearview mirror. lit another cig, rolled down the window, and cranked sirius 26: classic vinyl. i exhaled at
the vagaries that would surely evaporate like my exhaled smoke; the clouds predicted rain and i was racing home
as kansas told me to carry on, you wayward son. i went back and fulminated fully, some might say completely...

non-currency

seared silence
  -or-
junket clients

 

 

Fried noggins, a case of the fog encroaching in.  It all seems forsaken, it's a question for later.

I cried as a (fresh)man, the guilt was real but the intentions were muddy.  What's my value as a person?

 

I lied in earnest, confused because a professor said my writing pointed the wrong way...

Sigh(t)ed and (re)signed, who would not c(r)ater?

the meat

was moist

 

 as was

the meeting

a clamoring,

in chagrin

there will be inundation

 

as i lay stricken
  -or-
% clocked

 

 

back again
      shady and ashen

 

started remembering
  a lie,
 a beginning

 

swooned over the past

 

ate at the bar
      alone again

 

stood in lime,

  wanton existence,
 silent longing

 

it all seeps back in