(no subject)

[nelapsi]

with drinks dumping down our throats a mile a minute, and records spinning the same, it's no wonder that fists were primed, and picking the choice jaw to drop, but better things were on our minds. friends of friends of friends of everyone, we all knew who was who and what was what, and we were no exception to the growing number of walking dead, soullessly filling each other with remarks about mundane details of this and that or that and this, which none of us would remember the next day. we sat deep in the jungle, in our own cave, while the wolves and bats lurked by us, paying no attention, busy quenching their own lustful thirst, and for a moment or two, all of that was a blur, but we were in focus, for someone to snap the moment, either with the grain of the film or the pixel of the file, or the energy jolt of the brain, (that is the spark of life). we sat quietly and nothing was said, or maybe it was, no concern. That moment was here and gone, and the rest of the night ran off with the train that screamed by a few seconds later, and this was all that was buried inside the gray matter that rests above our spine.

watching full house makes me want to shoot myself in the face.