While renting a uhaul, the
in the process of hiring a truck,
some of the vendor's stomach flora
released and attached to my face.
you could almost see the blooms
of coli as they splashed on your
eyes' moist surfaces and flocked the
uvula. Even five hours later, my
his gut mosses linger in my sinus
chambers and continue to stimulate
synapses reserved for archetypes,
arranged marriages, harsh caprices.
"How life can be separated between tomorrow and today, where I've forsaken society by knowing almost no one but the famous. How I've changed home into a structure that had spent a year splayed in three separate but potentially interlocking components, in a meadow, with sticky bee hives seeping throughout it that would start a walkathon movement among any normal gathering of concerned citizens... How in 40 thought-out moves not a one was aimed at something like whatever this is, but something measurably better... But how the plain truth is that, with a fat bitch laying by my side, I can spring forward into the same strange land that you are all trying to navigate, how I can live in horror and sanity somehow, all integrally, where a plan is a map and a map is a planet... Sylvia... come back to me..."
Jack Skelley’s Brian Jones *
2 hours ago