Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

yeah (right) part 2 in 6 parts

weeping inside a turned-off emotional boy's acne, the lines on the street iS freshly painted, just enough for cops to weave in and out of traffic, lights on or not.
we're all afraid
swallowed by:
late appearances to new jobs
buying dads-with-tuberculosis-lungs cigarettes where moms-who-care can't see
>>>"only the cheap ones, oh, they're called extra lights"<<<
the cashier corrects my father, she knows not of his past or present
>>>"umm, they CALLED ultra lights"<<<
he's indifferent at home in his chair,
two burnt lungs and an ice cream sandwich

i spend too much time wondering,
they say,
of the importance, or lack thereof, in being 15 minutes early when these saint loser fuck buses only come once an hour, but i like it out here more, and, to be honest, it really iS safer for white kids to ride the bus now that they've gentrified my entire city,
(i just write it down, not like anyone else acknowledges it)
my oldest friend asked me recently
as she's asked before,
when i'll get a cell phone and a job
she'll put 20 a month down on that shit
bet she won't
i don't have answers to these questions anymore

hi, i'm jake ---
a bit of a recluse, i like to be me, or, rather, just be. when i get the chance

stuck on Gravois, and just when i had planned out what i will tell my food stamps caseworker now that i have a job, the bus won't come.
and boy,
>>>if i had a cell phone right now<<<
and i'd pray to god (capital G) right now if this mechanic's phone would stop ringing in my ears

what kind of idiot would create this sitcom?
the plot is all over the place and the angsty protagonist in the Saint Louis Stallions hat seems to be getting less funny and more depressing (older?)
and rap music still sucks:
jeezy fabolust just skated through my soundscape talkin bout dollar signs on his penis hoodie
-and i'd rather hear babies scream at the top of their malnourished lungs in the slums of england which i can only imagine is under intense icelandic volcanic ash right now-
the mind iS a terrible THING to HAVE

where's my escape...
from escape?
how do i cope...
with cope?
what kind of circular cyclical world iS we livin in?
the Bliss of Sacrifice
the Meaninglessness of Meaning
at this point i'd take anything i could trust,
except another chronic disease
or arrest
namely, i'm enjoying life

keep that in mind once you block out the rest.


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