is that inch in my mile?
i've found that the literacy rate in my brain cells has dropped 82%, and my heart went on a bender in its imagination last saturday night. other than that things are normal, or abnormally dull. i'm not supposing that it matters since i'm looking at it all with red eyes and a fever of anger that never got resolved. so i take a deep breath and reach high above me to something that hopefully will take the pain away, or at least the weak tears. i stretch my fingers as far as they will go, and i hear my back crack with a symphony of pops and a medley of ache as i pick this meat out from between my teeth. you see, about an hour ago, i took a big bite out of my shoulder ... someone said there was a chip there. don't know where they got that idea. so anyway, chewing on my remains and hoping against hope that maybe that white horse with that knight will trot on by me and save my heart some mileage, i turn down the radio just to hear myself think:
...i'll never be a good sidekick since i can't unlearn my tricks.
...if i'm good at anything, it's probably not fun ... things like balancing my empty checkbook and picking out good melons.
...it's not that i'm happy ... don't worry, i'm not.
