When you get onto this screen and try to spin it all with your whirlwind view, my stomach turns and I feel spilled.
The doctor told me not to take it so personal. Then he ripped the bandage off, as hard as he could.
I could have eaten like a King, with the shadows they were parading before me. The ongoing show of false and filling. I was tied up to the diner booth and the river man was asking to refill my cup. If you want to make the passage, I can get you something truly good.
It was worth leaving a big tip to get a chance to stay after they closed up, the jukebox off the clock, hear the music play of its own throat rasp, a funny feeling when the industrial garbage disposal makes that noise that shakes your lap.
I’d like to stay here, behind these blinds you pull down in the morning, so the truckers can eat their runny eggs in peace. When the sun doesn’t blind those who run the road against its beating face.
But what is this desire to chase the image that falsifies my teeth? Why obsess myself with liars and their reign? Take it personal? No, I’m on the warpath. If I could stomp out the inconsistency I might tread a steam-roller’s joyful wrath.
Why do I know so much, to tell my heart the shadow belongs inside my light. Can you imagine walking around the dark world, with that kind of vision in your mind?
It’s enough to make the cave so cold. Damp walls, shadow play, so sick the truth be told.
I wouldn’t mind a fire to purge the rock of its solidity. I wouldn’t mind to drink the magma if that’s all you have on tap to offer me.
Did Patty melt when you told her her love could save you? That a decent meal and someone who cared with that song on repeat to annoy the other diners- worth the sockful of quarters, worth them yelling and trying to unplug you, worth the need to jump up on the counter and wedge those crinkly fries in their tattered seats.
If it’s a long
I hope we have the wind in our eyes.
And the sun in our