sno cones have no morals
i am bankrupt, emotionally and spiritually. i dig my fingers into a wallet only to find holes in this plan. it appears to me that i am working to live and i live to work. money disables my potential. the thought of this is poison. why can't we live in a world where good merit and positive thoughts pay for everything? oh shit, i forgot about corruption, power, and wealth. it will be lifetimes until we come back around. i hope we do someday.
it's a boomerang proposal upon my entry into public spaces. i wait until i have just the right amount of momentum and bada bing bada boom. there i go. looping like a dog chasing its own tail. most people duck to dodge this foreign contraption. i travel to the coast, down busy intersections, and even to that shady Mexican diner that has a fat donkey laughing at a human-sized taco on the right side of the window. despite the phallic visual, the burritos are amazing. the lady running the counter is even more life altering. i think she got cheek implants recently. i find myself studying her mannerisms and alas, i am back where i started.
chaining thought processes to one another is a lonely path. very few understand me these days. perhaps the desire to have someone probe their finger inside my neuron infested brain is the method to an unfulfilled expectation. arguably it's all a defeating gesture. expectations are never met. why have them at all? dopamine resides on pharmaceutical shelves. i run low on a daily basis; as a matter of fact, it is on an hour-to-hour basis. routine haunts serendipity.
this no expectation shit has got me all twisted. i have no contingency plan--something has to give. light the nicotine in the name of dope to satisfy the cravings.
it's striking when you realize sesame seeds resemble black heads. finger fuck the hell out of that mountain and you will see my point. i sit here staring at my pitted face. where did i go wrong? what the hell happened today? yesterday? last year? i don't get carded anymore. i want to hand the cashier a bag filled with sesame seeds and tell him that my adolescence is here. wait patiently until he takes the bag. grab my c-sticks and run.
action music cue in.
law enforcement chases after me. sirens echo. i feel young, invincible, and relentless. close up on a sweat bead falling from my forehead. chest rises and falls quickly.
action music cue out.
instead, i look at him with the ID between my thumb and index, dumbfounded. awkward silence penetrates the doorbell. his pancreas needs help. i want to tell him this. he needs to call his wife because she's worried about his pancreas. i need to tell him this. there's a boomerang spinning over his head. i smile and take my receipt.
i asked her what she knew about pansexuality. she paused her breath. placed her finger on that wonderful dimple as the asphalt got her attention. her eyes scanned the rocks and gum cobwebs. she then looked at me and said... enlighten me.
innocence is prevalent even today. and so we are back to the very roots of our existence. children in constant exploration. i present to you this mind.
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