Eastside of Anywhere

Living on the east side of anywhere provides you with ammo automatically. Your limbs and torso are varnished taut with the ability to ignore your surroundings. If your eyes wander and connect with a happenstance that doesn't concern you, stray your gaze to the nearest object and study it like you care. Dismiss or engage.

The latter we won't climb, the missing rings prove tricky to those who lack a predisposition for conflict. Personally I enjoy it, but it's one of the negative things I'm working to eradicate. The eradication of my predispositions is proving to be my main job lately. Childless and middle aged, my bathroom mirror glares at me with my old mans reflection. The limey fuck, ginger headed, and mad angry gritted his teeth when shit was gonna go down. Missing him as I do, I'm thankful our process taught me to protect my kidneys and liver and that a shiner was makeup for men. After all these years I have become solidly certain that an Usher can live without a heart, and lately I've been asking myself if I have been.

Static in mild inebriation. Standing base level with a glow they know now we pass on. It's like being perched atop a cupola without regard for the gale blowing NW at fifty. Stiff gusts broadcast your infelicities as you save yourself from the big fall, content you climb down and amble placated from the rush of adrenaline. The quick come down always bears grizzly consequences leaving nothing but questions and sets you forward querying whether or not a competent tumble to death would have settled things fairly for the cosmos.

Steady on my feet and thankful my infernal machine ran out of fuel, I know the plummet wouldn't have been celebrated. Those who love me find me from time to time with my head above the waves. Treading water with the unwavering confidence in the shift of tide buoyantly bobbing me back to shore, i always bet my life on the ocean. I sat down at the table of life with a 2 and 3 off suited and now find myself all in on the bluff. I've raised the stakes every round and the table read me before I stacked my chips. The world knows I'm lying and when they finally call me on it, I hope to leave the table dejectedly affable. Busted with a crooked grin.