sharing is caring, just ask the needles
this isn't dancing i'm just dodging bullets, i swear, !
feel myself turning into some sort of hyperevolved bionic cheshire cat all this unexpected & probably EXTREMELY TEMPORARY good fortune has me floating six feet above my head casting disinterested eyes all over everything, blanket the fucking city in disinterested eyes, i don't want to hold onto them any more they are attracting attention. which is code for flies. NOT DEAD YET KIDS. not now not ever. makes a clever little rhyme my nerves are shot but i am not & so on & so forth & so long, motherfuckers . . .
& well i'm just as sick of false alarms as the next guy if it weren't for this nonstop litany of WOLF WOLF WOLF crying someone's got on permanent loop hidden in the walls it would all just go away, slink off into the shadows without so much as a reluctant chirp. i'm on high alert for a certain group of familiar faces which if i see, run-do-not-walk to the nearest exit, yell THEATER in a crowded fire & make off with whatever you can get. i mean hey if my ability to panic to the extent that my "life" is in "danger" is a pretty damn good party trick, but i wasn't even trying. TRYING IS THE FIRST STEP TO FAILURE. don't think of it as success, think of it as failing to fail every cloud has a bulletproof lining so ready, aim, EXPIRE
throwing myself into work because hey no better way to dodge bullets than never remaining in the same place for five minutes at a time & on the job i'm the manhattan miasma that makes silly amounts of money drifting about looking vaguely threatening. seriously if i love my job is there something wrong with me, hell running a 'business' out of the 114th st starbucks wasn't this gratifying. until the business ran ME & the rest is hissing hissing history meow catty swipe at the past's glassy eyes. blink damn you blink. you know what they say a watched plot never spoils
feel myself turning into some sort of hyperevolved bionic cheshire cat all this unexpected & probably EXTREMELY TEMPORARY good fortune has me floating six feet above my head casting disinterested eyes all over everything, blanket the fucking city in disinterested eyes, i don't want to hold onto them any more they are attracting attention. which is code for flies. NOT DEAD YET KIDS. not now not ever. makes a clever little rhyme my nerves are shot but i am not & so on & so forth & so long, motherfuckers . . .
& well i'm just as sick of false alarms as the next guy if it weren't for this nonstop litany of WOLF WOLF WOLF crying someone's got on permanent loop hidden in the walls it would all just go away, slink off into the shadows without so much as a reluctant chirp. i'm on high alert for a certain group of familiar faces which if i see, run-do-not-walk to the nearest exit, yell THEATER in a crowded fire & make off with whatever you can get. i mean hey if my ability to panic to the extent that my "life" is in "danger" is a pretty damn good party trick, but i wasn't even trying. TRYING IS THE FIRST STEP TO FAILURE. don't think of it as success, think of it as failing to fail every cloud has a bulletproof lining so ready, aim, EXPIRE
throwing myself into work because hey no better way to dodge bullets than never remaining in the same place for five minutes at a time & on the job i'm the manhattan miasma that makes silly amounts of money drifting about looking vaguely threatening. seriously if i love my job is there something wrong with me, hell running a 'business' out of the 114th st starbucks wasn't this gratifying. until the business ran ME & the rest is hissing hissing history meow catty swipe at the past's glassy eyes. blink damn you blink. you know what they say a watched plot never spoils