The one fucking thing that remains is an uncanny ability to decipher bad from worse.
To condone my own fumble fisted absence.
The cold showers no longer work and the fungus
that lives within the cracks of such welcomes me with glorious infections
and multicolored movements that become twisted
and complex remaining in the wings like encoded artifacts.
My days are filled with bad cuts of meat.
They are gamey and intended to be chewed, swallowed,
digested and shat out while reading instructional pamphlets.
Instructional pamphlets that tell just how and why you should fuck off.
I am here and will remain dormant with my plate full of thinly sliced
remnants that cannot and will not be swallowed.
Ray Strickland 12/11/07