Posted by marko on 1/28/2007, 8:37 am i’m waiting for something else, preferably better, but i don’t i’m enticed to turn the dump over. go ahead man, scene 203 i’d say there’s better than half a chance that might be scene 204 despite the pain i can’t stop moving. i can’t sit still i feel i’ve lost my faith. faith being one of the most
24.2.116.192
scene 201
suppose i’m in any position to be choosey. samuel beckett
is drinking irsh whiskey & talking in circles. winona ryder
is cranked out & stuffing my pants up her shirt. coleridge
& dequincy are laying down epic struggles while smoothing
out the parchment with a never-ending hook-up of opium.
throw that switch ####er. drop that sledgehammer down
hard & fast until i forget all but my crushed skull. prick
me with your infected fingernails baby. bore me to death
with promiscuous performance art. but first give me one
good reason why not. i already know why. make it good.
slice it as many ways as you like but don’t lose the essence.
don’t let all the truth drip out. no more stupid stories.
whoever heard of a white night unless the sun flames out
in a sudden burst of—i told you to turn off the damned lights.
putting out to pasture evolutionary madness, obnoxious
baby-boomers & yuppies & x-generation assholes in
suv’s large enough for a hillbilly family to live in. vicious
river rats six feet long. folded wheelchairs crammed into
closet doors that keep coming off the hinges. cracked
sunglasses of a blind man who really could care less so
you know he’s authentic. that’s right, we’re stardust
joni mitchell & hoagy carmichael & stephen hawking.
no one is going to argue the point. knowledge will soon
be obsolete.
scene 202
nobody’s watching. farther along, futuristic mind
control methods, not the old spiritual, pushes me
toward trouble. it used to throw in a bit of fun to
keep the complaints to a minimum. but now it’s
only trouble & more trouble & more confusion
over why exactly it is trouble anyway. i’m thumbing
through a book of quotations, trying to find something
inspiring, or at least connect me to something other
than bad advice. suddenly the pages catch fire. i throw
it to the ground & stomp the liar dead. i’m extremely
skeptical concerning anything that doesn’t cost more
than i can afford. any script worth it’s salt will self-
destruct or applaud while i drift off. i’m illegal in a
strictly societal sense. i can’t be fixed, only sedated
enough to keep the episodes somewhat under control.
there could be more mischief underneath the floorboards.
there has to be something there i’m not supposed to see.
i know this for a fact. it would be useless to elaborate.
it would scream when level-headed is called for. so
all i’ll say is that it gets unpredictable very quickly.
i’ve learned to speak faster, even in my sleep.
me in the photo. it’s in the eyes. that’s what has me
almost convinced. they change the least. they give the
most away. either way i plead innocent. i don’t know
those people. i don’t recognize that room. i know they
could trot out a dozen judgments that would argue
otherwise. people will do anything for money & a little
exposure. willing to lie through their teeth. willing to
make fools of themselves on television. speaking of
which, that tv in the background looks ancient. the
furnishings are antique. i don’t go back that far. i’m
not that old. im not sure i was ever that age. & besides
i would never let myself be surrounded like that.
for any portraits or demographic studies. i can’t relax
without destroying my liver. i can’t lie back & wait
for it to come to me. i have to charge ahead recklessly.
i have to reach out & touch. fondle the results to see
how real it is. i have to dodge accusations & blows
because of all the suspicions that reality teases me
with unmercifully. it has a mean streak. it has a
warped sense of humor. despite of what’s been
tagged my apathetic attitude & disillusioned behavior,
i can’t just lay down & quit. i swear i’ve tried. all i got
was more of what i wanted to avoid.
scene 205
ambiguous definitions. but i lack a better explanation.
it’s a feeling. that’s all. such things can’t be measured
except in flurries of action & reaction, which can’t be
laid out as proof until the it stops dead in its tracks.
i do recognize the feeling though. i lost my faith in
the past. but i regained it a little at a time. any other
method is tent show histrionics. i may have grown
stronger. i may have dropped preconceptions &
accepted all as it is. i may have found some satisfaction
in my life for awhile. it may not have been faith at all.
how can it be qualified without delving into abstraction
& personality disorders? i’m not one to quote scripture.
i can’t get chapter & verse to add up to anything except
an overwhelming need to dig below the proverbial
bottom line. i could jimmy the numbers into eternity,
but all i’d see would be pages floating upward. i’d
reach out in vain. i’d jump up & down like an idiot.
i would never be able to see the answers from that
far away.
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