Infinite Nonsensical Ramblings

This is a 5-part stream of consciousness rambling of sorts that I did around the age of 21. I remember that at the time of writing I was in a very nostalgic state of mind. I don’t know if it’s worth posting honestly, but when reading it again for the first time since writing it, a certain nerve is struck, so i’ll take my chances. I hope you enjoy it.

PART 1

Elliott Smith. Fuck. Dead tar-gut. I wanted a tricycle for my 17th birthday. Fucked the butcher. Nobody’s smiling now. Blew an ounce. Didn’t feel my soul. Junk sick cells. Infinite cryogenic buzz. Time never mattered. Coulda kept the baby. Iwannalackabreathkeepinmedeath. Close by my bedside. Notebook. Light a cig. I’m just sayin.

Part 2

Hooking up with an 18-year-old is always fun. Never open your eyes because they never close. She shall drop panties and you shall react accordingly. A flowers sweet scent never fails. If for some reason it does, the nectar won’t. Full contact and then a sink-face illusion that you call a marathon. She could beat you, but it doesn’t matter. Tonight your both in full bloom. Fucking righteous.

Part 3

Played an overture at a requiem for myself because I knew no one else would play the song like I asked. Too raw? Too real? Too true? FUCK YOU! Can you hear that reverberating like Ol’ Black through the stadium that’s kept you going strong for 20+ years? Shoulda been deaf by now. Always fucking around. Never asking enough questions. Never hearing enough answers. Always having too many inquiries in my head.

Part 4

Bent over and broke a dandelion from it’s stem. Sun shining in my eyes. Breeze blown up my shirt. Always leaving my crotch open to new opportunities. Let’s take a walk, it’ll do us both good. Walk half a mile and see a woman. She stayed in my mind for months. Let’s grab a bite to eat. Payed for my meal, payed a woman. She stayed on my wallet for years. Wanna destroy yourself? Get married.

Part 5

Look back. Sand. Hazy memory. Never the same as is was when it was becoming. Look forward. Dirt. Lingering vision. Probably going to be hell. Not right now. Go back to your fur-lined chair and smile. It’s just as bright here on the corner. My pocket calls my name. He’s always been a heckler. Can’t focus anymore, can I borrow yours? No? What am I left with?

END

Golden Tarot

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