| just like 1931. but in my city everyone fed off of amphetamines, occupied with being so alert and picking at their faces and reconstructing silver toys. The alley brats ive met were never sexually timid after they wanted to be my friend. my circuits so wired I wrote bible passages. Every desk clerk was familiar with active addiction, my fingernails were only so obvious, back packs and strained knuckles. I kept a murder machine in my back pack and showed it to anyone who was willing to put a pillow sheet over the motel rooms lamp light. I couldn't tell you when the last time I slept but I could tell you when I took my first nap. I smoke two packs of cancer a day. the television spun, on a loop especially at night. Id chew food repetitively hating to swallow as if it was heavy vegetables forced down my throat. Id rather resort to a Salisbury steak IV. the whole time I was high I had fictitious feelings about Godzilla fuck and psychiatric explorations of fetus's with needles. the flaming lips were beautiful every night at 945 |
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