Damn, I can see the horizon. Where I live, you can only see as
far as the next shack.
I like this, I can see the line of the sky, parting with a clear
blue line, then the green, an infinity of green. Trees. I like
trees. Do i?
What is liking? What makes you like or love something, is it a
matter of taste?
Taste, where does THAT come from? Are we born with certain tastes
or do we just form it with years of living?
Living, I hope I don't have to do that much longer.
I can also see a statue. A man who probably accomplished
something great in history, something I will never do. No one
will ever build a statue of someone who picks up garbage on the
street. Then again I like to think I keep this city clean. But
there are so many of us, we are the ones who clean shit on the
roads while you lay back and enjoy your Saturday night show. Ha.
Yesterday I saw a woman walking in the streets. She was wearing a
short white dress. Her breasts were big and round, you never see
that in my place. White never stays white long there, and women
are all angry.
So are men.
We are all angry, but it makes no difference.
Anger, it is a strong word, to describe a strong feeling. But
what can make you angry? I think anger comes along with something
you cannot accomplish. I am angry because that woman in a white
dress will never look at me twice. Or once.
I look down at my hands on the bar in front of me. They are
dirty, my veins are sticking out, always have. I have weird
I do like hands in general. I grip onto the bar tighter, the
veins bulge out more.
I lift my eyes back to the view ahead of me, never cleaned this
part of town. Its not to dirty anyway.
Usually I stay down south, there it is dirty an black. It makes
me want to throw up.
I always imagined how it would be if someone threw up their
intestine. Long pink tubes on the floor. Tubes going into others.
Does all this sound wrong? That was the purposeJ