You Can Heal

You can heal the weight of your conscience by spreading a dirt I used when I buried my regrets. The candy of remorse is bittersweet. I found some on the backseat and beat it with some impact. I stopped for gas in Pocatello and watched the death balloon go up. I felt sophisticated. I think it was the smell of gas. It went to my head and combusted. I looked west and saw a giant shovel crawling across the sky. I ride the implications whenever a passage opens to a lassitude without friction or wrinkles. If there isn’t enough drama in your life already you can get more at the local bar. But I warn you it’s slow, and then it gets angry and gets up to do some very weird dances. When the spirits move through us we must allow them adequate space and time to express themselves. For example, my wife is making movements based on the images on the floor. This would be a thing to appreciate with quiet solemnity, were she not doing it on the ceiling. The law of continuity is a path of stones through grass. As we walk from stone to stone we perceive a pattern. A madwoman in a maelstrom. Cinematic definitions of things like raw self-effacement. Repeating anything will restore one’s confidence. I like to practice things like statuary, or Bivalvia. I feel globular around mammoths, high emotions like prison and rawhide. Those are hard to escape. You can't sit back and settle for conformity. You must own a motel and read palms. When was I ever a good person? I belong to a squadron of words. I'm continually shooting shots of gloomy prophecy. It's hard to make a living doing this. I should've been a rock star. Instead, I went Full Nelly and became a rock. I fell in love with granite. Once you do that, you can’t let go. Especially if you’re 1,000 feet above the ground on a rock wall with tiny fissures. Is it lewd to rechristen sideburns? Is it better to die in the afternoon or early evening? What is the appropriate time to go on an errand? I’m old. I can risk things now. I can visit Malta. The things I find there sparkle and flip. It’s as if a new being had been discovered in my cereal, and all that I had formerly assumed to be obvious had begun to panic in the aerodrome. The living room is where we run away from destiny, but the garage is where I circulate lost cubes. Attending my denim the way I do is the quickest way to soften opposites and move forward using my arms and legs. When the insect kissed me, it altered my appearance. I don’t know if you can recognize me. No matter. I don’t really want recognition. What I want is a ride to the store and back. Yeats is in Chicago. I’m on my own now, wandering the rooms like a stranger.