[mediafire/sharebee/sendspace/rapidshare]
Zines were my thing, now I'm in the blogosphere constantly clicking on refresh, hoping the end is near. Feeling the microwave whisper buzzing behind my ear, but the alcohol intake inhibits my fear. Afraid of a world spinning crooked so I'm rural, where the words clog my head painting picture perfect murals, but my fingers and tongue get stuck on specifics, like the proper positioning and my broke ass linguistics. Minutes turn to hours turn to days turn to waste, and I wonder how I got stuck in this cluttered up space called myself. Hits and clicks and ones and zeros, world spinning through wi-fi behind fifteen minute heroes. What the fuck am I? A goddamned fool.
I heard the hum but deprive myself of sleep to the point I haven't dreamed in eight years. Sometimes with the punched clock demands and caffeine energy, you can ignore the real, and stagger through the days, keeping the creditors from leaving computer-generated messages on your voicebox while-you're-away machine. Except you're not away, just hiding from the hole you've been digging around yourself since the moment you got born by pure chance where you landed in the waiting hands of a dude (or woman) waiting to get paid. That's how it works. Slice the skin off my dick and point me off into the goddamned world and my body will float along with power, with strength, with amusement. But I'm a sinking and swimming ass fool, at the same time, one arm flailing and the other one numb. Hydrocodone Yuengling tag team double dropkick coming out the locker room with my theme music at -13 pitch shift - playing old 45s on a shitty ass turntable at 33 rpms. 33 and a third more precisely, and the opposite of this is hyper-crank style with three turntables rigged together with wires and cables and flea market equipment and stuff stored in stacked milk crates inside the camper behind the house, and they all spin at once to go 100 mph, so to speak, so to hear. Yin and yang, it all balances out to not much, and tomorrow it's supposed to snow and the puppies will bounce like crackheads and the kids will bundle up like satellite TV packages that end up costing $20 more than you expected and I'll look out the back window and be like, "Yep, this is my World."
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