QED

poesy

Like Kane, I walk the earth…

It’s definitely closing time out there. I mean, even the papers are proclaiming victory in death, this death everywhere. But in specific terms, there is this new frugality that was damn near extinct. It’s a competition also, between word jockeys struggling to restrain their flatulence of the mouth. They can longer contain themselves it seems and altogether defecate. But what is new. You get the occasional drunk, but that’s expected.

I can no longer walk the streets without finding myself under a maroon umbrella, as crying eyes abound. They don’t speak to you, but you can definitely witness desperation on a mass scale. I bet even in the high offices of downtown Chicago they feel this way, as the feds take away their Bentleys and whatever else they’ve been hiding behind cooked books.

Just the other day, I saw two dapper young Marines standing on the corner searching for some loving. But unfortunately, we are all tapped out at the moment. Because we only search for instant gratification now— and love is just a buzz word. But it shouldn’t be this way at all. We only make it so, by freely handing out our emotions. It’s like a cafeteria worker who serves cold lunch on a wet paper napkin on Tuesday: fish stick day.

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