I washed the windshield this morning after I dropped Musette off and while filling the car with fifteen dollars worth of a pre-paid pumping paid for with a Visa gift card which doesn’t scan at the pump. And a coffee with way too much sugary cream powder. Someone had poured one into the dish pit. I was streaking it across my screen saver. A golf ball bouncing just in front of my forty mile per hour hood. One wrong ping and the whole crew alights. Myself, the dog included.
Tiredeness. Did you forget about it. It is a true symptom. Of staying up late and blasting your eyes red with a hashtagging vape life in the closet. Gotta keep up appearances. Gotta make it to next month. Waiting for her call to tell me which station to pick her up at. I tell her that I don’t like driving in the dark. I’d prefer to avoid the freeway if possible. Maybe you could ride a little longer by yourself after your twelve hour day. It would just save me a lot of trouble. Possibly Death, Despair, and the Abomination.
Sobriety takes a good grip. Maybe just one more vape. It wouldn’t probably hurt too bad.
We’ve got to keep moving North, I say. Step aboard the Brigdorf, and let’s get ya there.
Tack tick taking the center of the bullet nightly alit, the tracers clomping through the future, warp drive flipped on. Don’t freak out. We’re just sitting in the living room. I’m in front of the fireplace, which isn’t on. The dog is sitting next to me. He’s lying down, and I’m hoping that his stomach is clear.
One can only be so lucky, as to be able to express yourself as clearly and as fluently as you can find yourself imagining. In such the way that I had hoped to alight the dream, a daring resort taken to lift me up through.
Hold tight rein bound rider. Let the spirit take you where it will. You’ve got to power up. Suck that nourishment of the movement and progression. Let it realign you. Help you see things more clearly, for what they really are. Not this wooden facade we’re dealing with here. So creepy skeletal. It’s a nightmare.