Midnight in Georgia. Decease the premonition. Death by all means. Empty
spaces fill the voids of unwritten laws. Heavy breathing. Where we go from
here, is how you look at things.
Things are always looking different. Plus or minus a few minutes means the
present is here. Cellophane brush strokes. Ever ready. Envelopes packed
with width. Shortening.
Old bread crusts and bloated gold fish. Floating tank top. Pool table
submerged. Heckle I will. Shooting pain. Beard stubble, blood and beer,
clog the drain. On the other end is the fantastic place where My Little
Ponies live. Rainbows and trout fill the silver nights. On the other side a
pistol is pressed against someone's sad forehead.
Peacock flair, with subsonic cutlery. Flatware of sergio. Hesitate four
laps. Mark the wound and cry it clean. Yourself has vanished, in to the
echoes in your eyes. Some players wonder, what if the game never started.
Interrupted once more. And she dives under the bed. What will she find when
see she looks deep into my eyes?
Thunder blister shelve space, targeted by amateur impostors. Flowering red
metro north timetables. Harvest is upon us. We both had to go. Mail in for
all the extras. Responsibilities are lost in a daydream. Much sleep is
needed. Night time in Georgia, is like sleeping without an engine block. I'm
alive and well. With much surprise, I have decided to call upon the important
parts of guessing. Sleeping aboard rather than abroad. No favors. Time's
up.
TIME OUT
Here is my time out. This is the place I go when I'm in trouble. I was put
here by bad men. It is dark and dreary. I'm so far down that the only time
that I see something is when I close my eyes. Then I see all my black and
blues and cuts. My head still hurts. Alcohol is hard to come by. I may come
out of this hole soon. At least I think so. I've been here since.... I
really don't remember. Maybe if I think hard and behave like a good little
boy. I cry, I promise you. Just loud enough not to wake the guard. Let me
go please. I'm very tired as it is.
