no real human panacea

doing the clumsiest electric defiant mambo dance across the powerlines, a spectre of myself sneers my kung fu sneer at the hired goons below on the sidewalk, sent to teach me to swim with a little help from my living room carpet. the thing is, this, see.. they finished the job a while ago, and have already had a cup of coffee and a cigarette at some local dive after driving back from the lake where they deposited me. yeah, they looked pretty surprised. so surprised that they just stood and stared at this ethereal version of me without speaking for a while. my spectre was too busy to notice them. i think i was too, well, when i was still alive.

people can get beyond your reach. they just can, and i think theres really not much you can do. its a terrible thing; an action creates a gulf, a gulf can cause a paradigm shift. back to the drawing board? no, i claim this whatever for fucking spain. whatever that means, i've been razorbladed out of the celluoid. color, cut and print. my soul is disquiet. theres some reckless abandon left, there always is... and i have no idea what it will do next.