“pterodactyls in the sky“
ex post facto success & a 3 night score.
only after straightening out came my usual
liberation. dumb-fuck luck seein’ it doled
out liberally & applied fast enough to make
a difference in the dark. got something to
crow about here; if that ain’t worth a few
minutes of preparation to get makin’s right,
what is? don’t worry about it my friend.
here; lemme get that fer ya.
i need counsel. seemingly none to be found
among oldies from The Leftover Gang; better
luck somewhere else. a voice i’m sure wasn’t
mine narrowed what’d been an abundance of
possibilities into fractional remains. no shot
at help tonight, no matter how badly needed
or honestly expressed.
blame is mine to keep as a signature souvenir
of choices made & fate challenged. it’s my
responsibility to ensure nobody knows the
real name or face of the man in charge. i
change it as often as i can since new names
are free with receipt & 5 proof of purchases
of extra strength bath salt. faces are
too expensive.
this one way conversation goin’ back & forth
with paint stuck to the walls says only “it’s
your mess, you clean it up.” how the
paint knew about the malfracted Peter Pan
side of me, i couldn’t tell you. the longer i
hashed it out with the paint, less interest
i had findin’ out why the walls were talkin’
tse tse flies while pterodactyls fill the sky.
methodical psychosis 