Waste Thick Earth

Friends and Alibis showed up at the lesion show with enough time for me to duck out back and walk slowly along the rails. I got something from that putrid soil and I didn’t have a real care if it ever moved me an inch because I moved it an inch. Looking around at the bomb of technology I felt good, like it was a good use of potential energy and when I opened up the book on how to celebrate all of my beauteous luxuries were no go – no pills, no booze, no smokes, no intensive 10K runs, no sex except for maybe whackin’ off to computer porn but even that was off limits from being put to the test. So I laid back, flipped thru the pod and listened to Darren Keen make some kind of sense of it. Some sense of life in the hipster flooded wasteland or really just the wasteland. I, for the first night in many, many nights had my mind back. I imagined it attacked by ruthless little ant-like creatures swarming my lobes of memory and pleasure and sense of stability and just nibbling away, as ants do, searching for the nesting grounds at the center until my own mindless little warriors found the key to choke ‘em out. In the aftermath, I am left to work it out, what memory remained and what memory was gone. I’d use the land and hunger which would be more reliable than friends, who each of which may have had the ants or worse, may have placed them in my ear to dig in. So I walked the tracks and felt for the hum of the coming loads and the sleek sizzle of the passenger trains looking for an honest ride across the waste thick earth.