Dozer, pt. 2

And you start to feel elated about the paint in between your fingers and nails, they keep you warm and safe and with company. There’s no better chance than drinking a pint of smoke and leaves with the downer, Alka Seltzer, or whatever brand it may be, believe in the fates, believe in the chances that life will make for you. Don’t lose hope.

I don’t want you to know and to think that this is one way of getting by, no, I am not getting by, I am just trying to shy away from the eye of the general public, down the tubes of ink and paint and lubes, and I waste my paper cash on cold hard meat I try to eat what I cook, it’s bearable but it’s self-flagellation

Carrying the daily cross of bread and butter and coffee and internet and oil and dog food and electricity and safe, clean air and the rest is dependence, finding a way to become noble today is as hopeless as trying to separate water and water, water and air, in the sense that you only have a funnel to do the dirty work. I have faith in my fingers and as hopeful as it gets, no, make it negative

Hopeless, (yes, that’s right) I will be able (no, no. I shall) okay. I shall, struggle to find a way (aaaay waaay, not uh-way) yes, that’s it, you said it now get me few pulls of that old toilet paper, because I wonder how it feels like not to be used for a very long time,

a long, long time, since the D-Day

of your expiry date

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