the finer line

All the worms light up in the mind. All the things that could potentially keep a person awake rise in the night and start working rhythmically in uniform operation with each other. The drip coming from the bathroom. Another drip coming from the ceiling and creaks in the walls that feel like the falling sky of every day. The building blocks of expected (standard) life are being held together by the silly putty of the mind. 

It’s better to live out-from-under all these worms. See a system that breaks you down and get out from under it and into the slightly insane forefront of atypical living.  We have to use insanity to our benefit, it being such a blunt foundation for modern living. The sick meditation of thought at the end of the day, your partner beside you asleep and their breathing – another of the worms lit up hot and betraying. Get out from under the blankets holding us down.

I’ve seen myself a victim of the drowning middle class, choking on fast food burgers and piss-smelling waiting rooms. Remember those multicolored ball pits we used to play in as children? Those balls are coming into my living room and only my head’s above the surface now. The balls of America. But they don’t ever cover me up completely, don’t ever finally end it for me. I can still hear the drip coming from the bathroom and the foundation shaking under my feet. I can still see the outside coming in to get me – and the new air we breathe has been manufactured and was not here when the dinosaurs woke rested.