Delaware

This place is bleak the end of a novel always cold here and there everyone seems to want a piece of your time to talk about empty bottles left on a shelf it’s like a giant vampire as it sucks everything out of me and makes itself even more of an asshole everything and everywhere forcing me to spend weekends hiding out in the cellar coming up for air and food and music and books and film and pussy and caffeine forcing me to reevaluate where and when I want to come out. Black horns help me out on blah blah blah Friday nights like this one and the one before and the one after it. I lost out on all of my old party contacts. Grey hair and a need to just shut up for the night keeping me content and never depressed even though I seem it. I just want to get away. This place, they all need some sort of an escape method; alcohol, drugs, constant television so they don’t have to talk to each other. I want to do the complete opposite of this, sit around and listen to some stupid girl talk about this and that and everything in between. Sit around and listen to some smart chick talk about this and that and everything else. I don’t want to listen to men complain they are fat or men complain they are cold or women complain about potholes in the road or women complain about how so and so from thirty four years ago wronged them. All of them drag me down and make me talk to myself about life and how to live it. I guess I am retiring. 

I Crawl Like a Viper

They pry things open. This is what I do as well. I apparently have good eyesight as I see things. All of it is stuff I wish I never saw in the first place. I go out late at night looking for it until I find what I need, add it to my collection of paranoid delusions. My steady diet of conspiracy theories and award winning documentaries about lying. Where I once held everyone in some sort of dim light, I now hold bright lights over them, unable to break them. I never want to put people on the spot but it's the only way to break them.

(gliding through unfamiliar cities at night. Crystal clean windshield so everything sparkles. This deafening quietness outside that surrounds the car like this orange tinted ghost that has no shape. It envelopes the car in a soothing way and if you go too fast you miss everything good. Bright white moon colored strips of light on the river. A man you’ll never meet walking alone. A park bench with an orange light next to it. Then buildings taller than you are, they swallow you whole. Tunnels and overpasses bring you to another area of the city or to a place outside you will never see again. Traveling like this, quick fast and in a hurry. A good way to see everything in orange and white.)


I imagine just being the eyes and ears here and not a mouth will work out better for me. I feel like I hit some sort of epitome that will only help me out in the long run. At least as far as giving me a head start when it comes time to run far away from all of the plastic and piss out here. Listening to their conversations, you can form a million ideas about every one of these weak mother fucks. You can see who they are from over here. Hey man, over here, yeah okay where were we? Oh yeah lets talk about the money now.

(I had traveled from massachusetts to parts of pennsylvania only blind people would dare to go. nothing there will make you laugh or cry in a good way the way say...utah will. I had ideas that must have left the same night I arrived. The room filled with smoke when I arrived, it was so hot that night even...)

I imagine these scenarios in my head for a split second. They will come into my head from now until I cleanse my head with something, I don’t know what. They show up in my head and I shiver. I won’t sleep. There is no way I can go to sleep with these in my head. There is no reason I get myself into this patterns and scenarios. From now until forever they will ruin anything I try to feel good about.

-Fifteen-

These fucks with all their protein drinks and energy bars and crystals and fruit flavored hamburgers and the like, do they ever get tired of paying that much attention to themselves? Do they ever just want to give up? Their designer glasses and haircuts. Anytime I can think of a scenario in my head with which they are burned to death in a barn or something, I stop and let that play out in my head for a minute or so and come back to reality.

Sometimes, I just want to be left alone, for long periods of time. Lately I never feel like being interviewed. I never feel like asking questions. For weeks here I was thinking my problem was I needed to meet more people. Now that I am, I don’t have any kind of interest in what people are all about. At 40 years old, I am all set now. I don’t care about things people think I may be interested in. Where they get some of their impressions is beyond me.