When-ever I reach out to the void where I played in my late teens and well into my twenties, I never did note then but do now how it seemed never too elapse nor did it ever let go.
Now these strange incorrigible, new aged monsters interfering with what goes on with my second hand beats frustrate.
Liken me not unto a burden, lessen me alike the poor, and notice the strange appetites of the greedy, the eye glances of the vain and the never say sorry sloths. All are lambs to the slaughter.
Some of my friends showed themselves to be enemies . . . . Some of my enemies turned out to be friends. I feel bad that now Oh how, At times they bored me.
Now everything bores me.
I need change, and not just a new suit and a cheesy villains moustache.
THIS SHIT AINT WORKIN!! . . . Outrageous Juxta positioning of things . . . Friends tell me that they got on the SHIT & got off on the SHIT . . . implying that its maybe me! . . . With an un-nervous nay, not I, I say, and move on with my DAY into a heck less NIGHT . . . .
And so I write:
Eggs beaten from birds of far off places to the north to the end of the earth, out of our orbit, beyond & out & off from THE far out Spaces . . .
