cornelius

in a white trash wonderland, i'm hop-scotching my way through, landing on the chalk lines and smudging up all the little kid's borders. it's the superstar doldrums, starring yours truly, and i just need to get away, let my hair grow out, take off my shirt and let my pale skin blister, let my scars get some sun. they say that it's always better on holiday.

i need to remember why this all started in the first place... it was my evacuation, my map to the homes of stars but i got lost right before i really got started. it is normal, right? to forget where you are going and just settle down, to give up on love because you're getting sexed, to extinguish yourself with chemicals only to burn brighter? why did i get invited to a pot luck and bring along only kool-aid to satisfy the masses?

i'm afraid that this is it, that i don't have anything else in me. i push and i heave, i exercise and i'm rewarded but it's always so stillborn... yet, i still find the right words, and when i dust it off i'm still finding it on when i distinctly remember switching it all off. i need a different map, i need instructions in another language, i need the ruined means to my end.

i'm still so damn thirsty, but i just don't know what i want to drink.

-bobby