Mental note #70

St Charles & Rt 83

So full ! So full of life and kisses! So careless! So I caress! So I could
care less! So wise! So full of smoke! So cautious of sick jokes! So meaning-
less! So meditative and authoritative! So-so! So murdered with curiosity!
So flustered with attentiveness! So stupid! So, something? Soso something?
I don't know, I really don't, do not know ... they've opened another dentists'
office across the street ... they're mad and so presumptuous like vultures
examining the decay of one man's innocent ignorance from their across-the-
street popping-up blown-out offices on York ... I laugh at them and then
wail for my teeth and then laugh again as they laugh, watching me moan like
some devilish bigot, a blighted scourge of modern dentistry that must be
absolved and re-mineralized with sagey, faggy porcelain. So now my teeth hurt,
so what? Well, I'll begin to tell you what.

It was because they wanted me to smile with paternal contentment. To sit
there and massage their oily heads to abort bad cosmic perceptions that the
universe hated them. And I always hoped they hated themselves because my
spineless stature transfixed any of my will to nothing to say so myself. But
here is to the muddied blues that procured shoulders to cry upon, contracted
ears to hear ever nervous murmur, stitched eyes to see nothing, and offered a
million other things that overshoot me.

Blind baby ... where was that amazing teat? Too bad you only had it but
for a second and its euthanizing elixir cannot save you from all the
sacrilegious low blows you gusted yourself with. No more sleep Blind baby,
watch out Blind baby, I will piss on your shallow daisy bed ... Blind baby.
2 Responses to “Mental note #70”
  1. Robyn says:

    you have left me vigorously confused

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