Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
I was tired. Tired of repetition and meaningless bullshit. The world is drenched in it, and you can’t escape the smell. No one wants to hear that, but it’s true. You play the cards you sneak into the game. You don’t want to corrupt the process? Doesn’t matter. Someone else will do it if you won’t.
This kind of tired wraps around your bones. I wish to hell people would stop telling me to smile. I can manage my own emotions – it took a while, but I finally learned how. And my expression is my business. I am not a human billboard; my face is not an ad campaign; it is a reflection of what’s inside. I don’t believe in putting on a pretty face, Ace.
And, sure, what’s inside is affected by what’s outside, but how and why? That’s for me to know.
Check it. There is a petite woman spinning as the crowd expands and contracts around her. She is moments from disaster – she doesn’t know it yet. She has crossed too many lines; she’s up, down, sideways. You could save her, but you would have to lay everything wide. She’ll die while you think about obligation.
No? Tell me that you don’t see the veins collapsing. Tell me that there isn’t a shit-star at the top of the tree, sprinkling filth all over me … that woman was counting on you. And you. On humanity. Y’all just watched her spin until her beehive imploded. Then, talk about how it’s a shame. It’s a fucking shame.
Shoot an endangered animal. Buy a car that gets 12 miles to the gallon. Talk shit and rail against people who look and speak different than you. Or you. Or you…
This soapbox is making my legs tired. I need an easy chair. Stuffing under denim, three feet square. I want to fall into a mushy Dilaudid dream, but I know how it ends. I almost wrote the ending once. Then I decided that life was made of pain, and that I wasn’t special.
I was just spinning in the crowd.
If you can keep your eyes open, then you’re doing better than most of us. So many try to lie and hide, profit from slow-motion suicide. Look far. Look wide.
There once was a clown with orange hair. Said we’d win so much we’d get tired of winning. That’s just the soundtrack of the moment. That’s the world spinning, scattering pieces all over the playing board.
Me, I’m regular bored. But, for now, still spinning.
#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..