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Out of context: Reply #952
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- Gorbie0
i can see rifts in my physical and mental health by examining my fingernails. my back feels broken and my hands won't open. dishes are piling up again, and so too, the tension... i can't make it on time. i keep a trying and a trying. they said don't bother it's too late. but i slaved away. i don't think my efforts are ever to prove the results. whatever i pull from this shit gets locked away for the day i keep waiting for. that time when suddenly evrything shifts and your perception is forever altered. it must happen. i imagine it's like slipping on a banana peel and falling upon a brick. you see them everywhere. Bedazzled sweaters with their feet so grounded they make fossils where they walk. i guess some struggle till they snap–maybe some get worn down like a fish on a line. we'll see as i pound this dirt down. i just want a lawn for christmas. wouldn't it be "nice". my mind kept drifting like that low fog you see sometimes, running past you. i thought about that guy we used to hang with. rememebr the dude in that mustang. his friend that frightening tow truck driver. he must've worked 26 hours a day. but none of us ever slept did we? it was so funny how he would've killed us in a single twitch. so funny when he shot up too much and collapsed in the market. so funny how we left him there for dead. he should've killed us. then noone would've learned anything and all would be free with history ever repeating itself over and over and it wasn't us who died. it was that crazy fucker. late again... those cops filled him full of slugs and slept like babies thinking it was the world they saved. silly bastards didn't even think once it was suicide....
the dirt is pounded down enough. my arms are killing me. it better rain this fucking time. i swear baseball players and meteorologists. only 30% of the time they're right, and everyone thinks they're heroes.
happy holidays,