A Black Feather, A poison pen...

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before inside the pouring rain

feeling lost again.


that same feeling, the one i never get to leave totally behind before it overtakes me again


even though ultimately nothing of note happened there was a severe weather alert and i got to leave 45 minutes early from work


just a dust storm


i stood at the stop under the powerlines and as the wind kept changing direction and gusting about you could hear the howling noise of the wind being cut by all the hard edges where i was


take a piece of heavy rope and swing it around as hard and fast as you can until you can hear the sound, the vibration of it cutting the air in something like a low voice...now imagine yourself surrounded by that sound and underneath it imagine the sound of the 60 Ohm hum of the high tension lines


on an added note to all of this relentless good cheer...

i jumped in front of a car that was barrelling down the street where i was waiting for the bus, but he just broke wide as if he expected one day someone might do that very thing...it's a narrow street but one that never sees much traffic...i was hoping he'd get out and pick a fight but all i head as he drove away was the word "�Pendejo!" out the window...yeah, like that was news to me, buddy


i am the kamikaze pilot who is worried about his landing gear, the hollow point bullet with the anesthetic coating, the whipstroke against the hide of a dead horse


once and for all i will break my mirror tonight and reopen the old wound


i'm tired of seeing him staring back at me through those eyes...i just cleaned up in here...maybe i shouldn't have...maybe i should let all this shit pile up over my head until someone decides to pitch it all in the bin and cart it all away and me along with


i realize now, those aren't any kind of Zen moments i am having...it's just the big hole in the center of me raching out and snatching away another piece, like cancer corrupting another organ on it's inexorable path of metastasis


The best i should have ever hoped to be besides Murphy's prison bitch was a dupe, a patsy, a punchline


never more than an also-ran or a runner-up

Just another 3 AM - 2002-04-27

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