|
:::
Addictions ::: I knew I shouldn’t have cut through the alley. Besides the rancid smells of dumpsters and fry-vat ventilators, there was Sid, who made a living as he hid behind the giant fenced in transformer. As his last customer left, I passed by, and he said hi. Real casual like, but he knew just by my stride that he was going to have a good day. At first I refused, but we both knew it was just a courtesy... Drugs
Tomorrow |
:::
Case History ::: ...I don't have an underground subculture to mesh myself into, no matter what you may think of me. You are wrong. I am alone. I can not slither into the dark abyss of the underground to escape the mockery and taunts from the waking world, because I am not welcomed there any more than I am in the offices. I don't have the proper uniform, no matter what brigade I am following, and so I glide purposelessly from person to person, group to group... Suicide
is Painless |
:::
Not Otherwise Specified :::
Suddenly,
you're a gondolier! |
::: Phone Calls
From The Dead :::
Foursquares |
:::
Eighty Milligrams ::: I’ve read several theories that a segmentation process is what living is about. You start off whole, then you’re born into the world. Then your soul-pieces get segmented after events in life that leave an impact, and eventually you’re walking around just a part of a whole. It’s our duty, our mission, our meaning in life, to reclaim those pieces of ourselves from the people whom we allowed to take them. And if we die before we get those pieces back, get those matters resolved, then it’s just more work that we have to do later... From
point A to point B |
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