Leaving the bEAST, a hole in the HeartFJORD

We aint never had nuthin close to a future. She was a waypoint, I stepped on for a cold minute. Her minutiae blinded me, like the glare off mud flaps with chrome vixens scissoring their legs.

She wasn't a vile cunt mind you. She was good in bed and kept me warm. For the most part I was satiated, but her mood changes were the seasons and even though I deemed myself a haggard veteran of her cold shoulder spells, her face this instance disgusted me.

I have played two years upon her like pavement. I shoveled god's white shit off her face just to move. My stagnancy made her putrid, my serotonin levels failed her and her friends. I will never hate her. I will arrive to fuck her face when she feels better, when her winds shift, eschew the gelid drizzle and her limbs explode in color to suffocate me in their verdant embrace.

I leave friends with her, to watch. I leave enemies with her, to rot. People to me belong in the corral of my memory to buck and be broken in the serenity of my senility.

The chances are that I will be dead before Al Zimer spots me. He seems to me to be a garroters twat that twists the soul of those that dared to live too well, too long. Sundowning, whilst some drown.

Some know that when I go on sabbatical I return with herpes. I have loved every woman that I kissed. And lied to them all.

Much love to East Hartford.