and so the nights go, chained to a typewriter or a laptop or a telephone that never rings. reduced to straight clock status. the words keep coming, which is enough to keep us going through the motions, drinking the coffee, smoking the cigarettes, contemplating inevitable truths which make public a multitude of unflattering truths.
it's all part of an elaborate disappearing act.
my boss and i walked to a theatre where we store our linens. he said, 'harry houdini once shat in this toilet.'
the evidence keeps coming in, but i'll stick by my plea.
1 comment:
and so the nights go, chained to a typewriter or a laptop or a telephone that never rings. reduced to straight clock status. the words keep coming, which is enough to keep us going through the motions, drinking the coffee, smoking the cigarettes, contemplating inevitable truths which make public a multitude of unflattering truths.
it's all part of an elaborate disappearing act.
my boss and i walked to a theatre where we store our linens. he said, 'harry houdini once shat in this toilet.'
the evidence keeps coming in, but i'll stick by my plea.
Post a Comment