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If you knew what was good for you, you’d stay away from me. I’m not a bad guy – it’s not about that. I’m not a good guy either. I’m a vortex that will suck your hopes and dreams into a bottomless void. I’m passing out cynicism flyers. They come with a poppy and a punch to the solar plexus.
I know what’s going to happen because I’ve seen it, sure as I see the raven sitting on the electrical pole, and certain as he sees me. You’re going to come into this thing all starry-eyed and sanguine. You’re going to leave disillusioned and the other kind of sanguine.
And I have more than enough sanguinity on my hands. Both kinds.
What I’m saying is don’t come to me for answers. Come to me with questions, and we’ll climb the mountain together, but don’t expect epiphanies. Expect a lot of rambling rhyme schemes involving trout and trees.
I aim to please.
You aim to put a bullet in me. Literal or figurative, I don’t give a damn. You’re going to put holes in my body and there won’t be enough fast-fingered dykes in San Francisco to stop the bleeding. And by bleeding, I mean complaining.
Because really. Boohoohoo. Life is tragic, and I’m sick of it. I want one afternoon playing kickball the way I did when I was seven. That’s it. One afternoon. But you won’t give it to me, so fuck you and the horse you rode in on.
I don’t want to go to your sculpture garden. I don’t want to watch TV while my arteries harden. I want to drift slowly away … ripples from a canoe on a still lake. I want to slither like a garter snake. I want my neck snapped; throw me in the trash pile and burn me. Watch the bullet casings glow like fireflies.
Shhh. Relax. It’s all just lies.
What are these twisted knots that I try to untie? Do I want to live or do I want to die? Or do I want a time machine so I could go back in time and say, “Hey, maybe you should wear a condom because the kid that comes from this is going to be moody as fuck and obsessed with the word sanguine.”
How pretentious can you get?
You want some sweet lies? I got a whole set.
But I don’t use them. Lies are like children. They grow, and I won’t abuse them.
And here’s where I tell you about the time I hit the game winning homer or scored the winning touchdown or touched the hottest cheerleader or stalked life like it was a hummingbird feeder. None of that happened, though.
I got lost in the ether.
#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...