Maybe in another life I would find you earlier and maybe I’d find a million other answers to other questions but I haven’t figured out how to time travel or to do more than crash cars and planes.
People say to find what you are good at so maybe I ought to brag about being able to walk away from the wreckage.
Maybe I ought to talk about how awesome it is to find yourself covered in broken glass, oil and other things you can’t quite identify knowing it is probably better that you don’t know.
So you look up at the sky and ask if that is the best ya got and get the usual silence so you figure fuck it, I am free to do as I wish.
It is a four Cinnaabons for dinner kind of night.
Been here before, walked this spiral staircase but I can’t decide if I am higher or lower. Can’t figure out where the fuck I am relative to before so all I know is now.
Might as well eat all four while they are fresh because you don’t know when you’ll get another chance to engage in this sort of decadence.
Face in the mirror asks what is going on and the guy looking back asks if he thinks he can run at 500 pounds.
“A man who can still run at that size might find his way to the NFL or dancing on Ellen. Both are brutal but both offer some cash, maybe enough to make it worthwhile.”
Been a little while since the wreck but I can still hear the sound of metal crunching and feel it slicing across flesh. I hear the screams and the cries but I can’t tell you if they are coming from me or someone else.
Not sure if it matters because I have taken the phone off the hook and am ignoring the busy signal
Got a memory of a sign that says if you’ll buy whatever you break so I suppose I ought to reach into my pockets and see if I have enough cash to buy the shards of glass and broken pieces of stuff upon the floor.
Wasn’t drunk or high when it happened so I can’t use any of that as an excuse for what I broke. But I suppose I can take credit for making sure what might have been easily fixed was snapped into much smaller pieces.
No need to make it easy when harder and dumber is in play.
Better to find reasons to be alone and to ensure others leave you that way. Easier to be the bad man.
Seated on the edge of the cliff it is not hard to think about what happens if you slide forward a few inches.
Will you fall and bounce off of every rock and outcropping around or will you find wings. Superman isn’t coming and neither is anyone else.
You’ll fall and live or fall and die-there are no two ways about it.
The net result will be the end of suffering for your choices every day or a new beginning.
