hangs

One in the morning almost. Cancer pain hangs from left base of skull sitting on the left shoulder of Mike iNter Library Lending suggesting I’ll walk you to the door. Let’s go to the next library.

It’s in a dimension who’s name can’t be written with these characters, spoken with these bodies or heard with these ears.

Been wanting to throw up for hours. Was it the food? Sat on the toilet and shit like someone had put old peanut butter in a soft serve ice cream machine smelled like old broccoli mixed with a rotten tooth. Too dark to see but floating in the toilet surely it spelled out the name of some obscure demon.

Drank some water sure it would induce vomit. Still no. Killed that practice mostly decades ago. It acid-burns the varnish off your teeth. What was the name of that kid Arianne introduced that time at Sidewalk Cafe who explained it through her chalky speckled tombstones.

It’s cold. There’s nothing but the sound of white noise cars passing on the street and drone of eternal machines. And a small symphony inside the head the drone every old rock musician is familiar with. Just embrace it. Kind of beautiful.

Soon birds will begin to sing.

By the way:

1/03/2025