THE SOCIAL SECURITY OFFICE...
All is purple-mad today...driving pulp green car to Venus...at the Social Security office (why did I capitalize that?!?)...all sorts of Bush-hurt people, you can tell dragons got the worst of them...half-hung over, got the shakes--ibuprofen high off coming down is the best, like snow-powder brain...and I hate crowds unless I'm feeling buzzed...so I goes and I stands alone dragging the cigarette Bowie style staring at the city-pretty couple puffing magic smoke...
Go back in brick cube post-office looking building...nervous like field mice...slug my skinny corpse body through aisles of dead looking people and I am all family...shaking like pop-corn maker full of glazed candy...the feeling of stares makes me not sit straight, rubbing my fore-head like it was down below my legs, cracking knuckles to scare away anyone trying to make snug conversation, pen in hand to make it look like I'm busy...and all is mute even over voices talking and the funny little girl that circles around the seats, but I never look-up until cute Hispanic girl-couple sit like the big old sad sun...she eyes me and probably knows my recipe, so I cover my face wishing I had another cigarette. "Number 5254," mom-voice calls out: "please step up to the first window"...and I'm glad because I feel magnetic waves of eyes and it makes feel like I should be drinking...
...the drive is back to Mars...I celebrate exit out of door with nicotine traces whilst blasting the Stones "Gimme Shelter"wishing that it was not against the law to drive around naked...just wanted to rip off everything and make a couple of soccer moms stare...and that's when I know, I should be drinking.
All is purple-mad today...driving pulp green car to Venus...at the Social Security office (why did I capitalize that?!?)...all sorts of Bush-hurt people, you can tell dragons got the worst of them...half-hung over, got the shakes--ibuprofen high off coming down is the best, like snow-powder brain...and I hate crowds unless I'm feeling buzzed...so I goes and I stands alone dragging the cigarette Bowie style staring at the city-pretty couple puffing magic smoke...
Go back in brick cube post-office looking building...nervous like field mice...slug my skinny corpse body through aisles of dead looking people and I am all family...shaking like pop-corn maker full of glazed candy...the feeling of stares makes me not sit straight, rubbing my fore-head like it was down below my legs, cracking knuckles to scare away anyone trying to make snug conversation, pen in hand to make it look like I'm busy...and all is mute even over voices talking and the funny little girl that circles around the seats, but I never look-up until cute Hispanic girl-couple sit like the big old sad sun...she eyes me and probably knows my recipe, so I cover my face wishing I had another cigarette. "Number 5254," mom-voice calls out: "please step up to the first window"...and I'm glad because I feel magnetic waves of eyes and it makes feel like I should be drinking...
...the drive is back to Mars...I celebrate exit out of door with nicotine traces whilst blasting the Stones "Gimme Shelter"wishing that it was not against the law to drive around naked...just wanted to rip off everything and make a couple of soccer moms stare...and that's when I know, I should be drinking.
merlowe:
Thanx for joining in on the Revolution luv!!! I am diggin your blog style will certaintly tune into your Bat Channel more often...Keep on keeping on !! 