Dr. Ruth.
I walk around this sullen town broken and empty. Tedious days run together like smeared watercolors on a dull canvas. Whatever events that transpired, well I don't have much to say about them. I will tell you this however, that I've seen a few things there and here. My friend never awoke once, with a needle hanging out of his arm, pools of drool lingering from his stale mouth. They said I was a criminal, maybe I was and/or still am. Perhaps I'm not that much different than any other thrill seeker. I need to start being more grateful for the things I take for granted, don't we all.
Springtime enveloped the outer city limits. Corner barrooms, and lucid talk of bucket lists. I listened vaguely to others warn me about that or this. Upon awakening I'd do my best to feel alright. This is all that mattered to me. Night time's toxic escapades of sedatives, booze, and midnight rambling. Loose conversations filled gaping intervals of desperate dialogue. There are cemeteries that need to be filled with rotting corpses, still decomposing. Desolate hungry souls ache miserably along with the damp weather. This Winter shall be a cold, deserted, withering Winter. The summer shall be boring, petty and sweltering.
Seasons overlap, a solitary moon hangs silhouetted in it's silent chamber. Residential trees align evening gardens that unfold unmercifully beyond sububan perimeters. Afternoon appointments made in vain proximity, let us go and see the doctor, he'll prescribe medicines you recommend to him.
Twins
Once upon a time I knew a pair of sexy twins, built for speed, full-figured if you know what I mean. Brunettes with dazzling dark hair that descended down to their exquisite waist line. Thick thighed beauties. Substantial domesticated white girls. Back in high school's decadent decades. Trophies they were, at least while they were young, before losing grip of naive adolescence. We would make-out sometimes at school dances, behind the green dumpster in rural parking lots. Sometimes on the weekend I'd meet them at the antique strip mall, holding both their bone- frail- hands, I'd walk them around, on the weekends.
In my younger days I played with fire and
enjoyed it, very much. Still continuing, to
this day forward, attempting to relive
those very same moments,
though failing miserably.
I still try, and get
rewarded with
nothing but a lukewarm
40 0z. Miller High life and a soiled
pair of
trousers.
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