Since you asked. This is where the bodies are buried. Where the paper is shredded. Where the dreams were gutted and sliced and stored
in single-use plastic. This is the
scream store. This is an armpit of a
demon seventy feet deep and rising. This
is ignorance and bliss in a tug of war.
That was your last chance and your getaway car on fire on the side of
the road. This is the clown that molests
at parties. This is a zipper that will
stick and make you late and determine the rest of your blink and miss it
existence. This is a headache that never
ends. This is a solution never
implemented. This is cheese on a saltine
or indeterminable cleverness crucified on the tines of a bent fork. This is the drummer left behind by the band
thumbing rides on the interstate on the grayest day of the year complete with
flurries and ominous rumblings from the distant horizon. Once upon a time hope roamed the hills, her strides athletic and pure. And then we put her out of her misery. This is where you ask how much longer and I
tell you not long but maybe too narrow and almost certainly too much for your kind in this
lifetime.
