It's funny-- I've needed these off-in the corners like drugs or like the red-white dams of tampons versus some sort of menstrual flow of the mind lately, it's all I can do to let it leak in the proper recepticals and not slip loose a scream to rip everything down, everyone apart, the queries from faces flapping like masks over drum-tight leather-skinned skulls. There are questions and questions.

There is divine frustration and

There is the Crime of Omission and

There is the rocketing spaceship to nowhere fast.

Amd me at the wheel, losing my mind with my vision and stopping off for biscuts and bluegrass, collard greens and the smell of a rainsoaked southern night.

You're so dangerous, you're like nothing at all and you're safe as hell.

<<agé chose>>

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