When I was little there was an old lady who attended my church, she gave up on using the bathroom years before that and would get stuck in the door. She would whisper cuss words and I had never heard damn said so sweetly. There was a man who lived on my street name tootler, he must have lost something in a bottling plant one day cause he spent the rest of his years getting to the bottom of bottles. I don’t know if he ever found what he was looking for. He played darts and talked to me about how the Lord was good and all but he doesn’t think he cared for him cause he let all his fishing supplies wash down the creek one day.
There’s something missing. She’s not supposed to be this far away. She’s supposed to be beside me, knocking over cups of tea and sharing her sudden outbursts of laughter. It’s not supposed to be just her smell left behind, or a little stuffed fox starring at me. She’s supposed to be here to walk in the mud and eat mashed taters in the late hours of the night. supposed is a funny word when you read it this many times.
I’ve been putting my faith in pens today, failing miserably at writing down the details of a perfect week. so i give up. pick it back up. give up. throw up. pull my socks up. listen to caspian. give up and then pick it back up. up is a funny word when you read it this many times.
I wear a sad face and sometimes my blood turns sad and it starts to slow down but then my body turns to a bubbling bladder of blistering happiness. Is this what Meth is like?
quick sand would be scary, sand that deceives you. hell.
that happiness is mine..