drying up in the throat as grief over what’s no longer able to be counted on sets in motion a cascading cataclysm we knew was coming and did nothing to avoid. maybe it’s time to quit. sell the car. stop pretending it’s all cool with me, man, whatever you want. as long as you’re okay, i’m okay, okay? okay?! just leave me the fuck alone! i’ll be squatting in the abandoned strip mall grocery store, the one miraculously scheduled for a renovation, the kind of renovation that signals the beginning of the end, because here comes the avant garde, scoping out where the vampires can get their last bit of blood before it all dries up
Leave a Reply