{ 05 } .. . soul pedlar

there’re floaties in my pool of consciousness, eww!

No damn good at all, that’s what she keeps telling me. And I’m just too tired to argue. Or maybe I don’t care enough to even have a decent conversation with her anymore. I find my mind wandering every time she opens her mouth and I see these little goldfishes coming out of it, hovering for a second before drifting skyward, belly up. Man, I gotta take it easy on that little concoction I’ve been calling velvet hammers, bennys washed down with vodka cut with grape jello powder. They’re okay in the morning, but if I have them later in the evening, I’m totally screwed til the next day.

Anyway, I thinks she’s talking again. I’m still not processing what she’s saying, and she’s starting to notice. I can see the little vertical creases forming between her eyebrows. Now, how am I gonna get out of this? I suppose I could just get up and walk out. I think it’s too late to pretend I’m listening. I should have started periodically nodding and grunting before now. I need to be smarter. I need to remember why I’m with her in the first place. I need to stop this bloody shaking.

Concentrate.


spiral scratch
betsy and the blue boys .. . { roy forbes, almost overnight }
testify .. . { parliament, up for the down stroke }
c’mon every beatbox .. . { big audio dynamite, no 10 upping st }