there used to be an order to things. there used to be somewhere to go. kinda up against the wall now aren’t we? dead stop. bone in, skinless. turning around is an option but do we really want to back track back? not really. the only other option really is to follow the wall and see if maybe just maybe it opens up somewhere and maybe david bowie could maybe be there, or better, dmx, and his ass would be up on stage crying like he used to be. such passion, really feelin’ it. fucking meaning it. not like this. not like splayed out helicopter splatter flying fuck off who gives a shit too cool to be cool which just makes it all the more cool kids chillin’ on the corner smoking cigarettes wearing sunglasses with tacky (cool) hats and ugly (cool) sweaters and tight (cool) jeans and skinny (cool) ties and hoodies that are way too small (cool) and depending on gender maybe a moustachio or a faux hawk or both and still he’s up there spilling his fucking heart and soul and guts and blood and sweat and tears (yeah they opened for dmx dummy) no one is paying one bit of attention…but the dull and throbbing here is is is is that we’ve got to start getting on with getting moving or pretty soon we’ll find that not only is the grass greener but it smells better and they pick up their dog shit over there and fuck all if they don’t have badmitten and bocci ball. so go ahead and spin out. turn’em over all night if you want but i’m aiming this bitch at at at at least 90 degrees from current if not 180 or somewhere in between and seeing what i can see. yao ming? plus, do whale farts smell under water or only when they hit the surface? makes you wanna go watching huh?
