G.F.Y.

…spew something

if I did or if I dind’t don’t matter. been too long. too long. time passes and things get rusty. briny breezes seize up all metallic things. I rebuilt the bottom bracket on the clunker wheh day. bearings fallin out like abscessed gums drop teeth.

shit. what else can I tell you?

blood courses through my veins like lava on Kona winds side. ain’t written shit for weeks except lists and notes for drops and routes.

everybody wants to be a mailman. then why is it all the mailmen look so miserable? I’ll tell you why. same reason I hit these keys. the opposite actually. it removes need. it removes ambivalence that leads to action. it’s the cog in the machine feeling that we figuratively fight like cocks in rings with razor blades tied to their tallons for that death stroke. drunk on miche – men exchange bets and keep one finger on their knives in case motherfucekrs don’t wanna pay up.

shit.

I’m not back. I just needed to type something.

I’m running. running. like you’d love to. but never will -

again.

5 thoughts on “…spew something

  1. pete bowes says:

    prune it down ras, chop it out – you’ll end up with more of ^ that .. bones and sinew

  2. Jeff says:

    I think Chinaski loved his time delivering the mails…

  3. Blacks says:

    Bring it back pussy. I’ma kick yo ass you pansy, emo, hipster woman. Sorry, just had to type something- love ya!

  4. Colleen Fleming says:

    Here with you, and I just needed to read something. Nothing matters and it all matters.

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