That was it

I’ve been gambling again, playing with things I don’t understand very late at night. We all wake up and grab for it, because living now is a kind of assembly line. Put your wants in one place. Sometimes these are mutual stocks, sometimes they’re fragile girls.

“That was it”, I said. “The very last time I’ll do that.”

Of course I feel the way I do, very little is honest . One of the neighbors is talking to another neighbor. A woman that lives across the street, and a man that lives opposite. They don’t leave their houses, they just talk from the windows.

I’m in the office with the sunlight. the curtains blow around all the time. There’s a small hanging crystal ball between the bars that throws shapes. I sit here with the table I like to look at, because of what’s on it. It makes me feel good to see: Four burned out candles, three books and one camera battery. Nothing on this table looks like me.

“Don’t swagger around with bullshit talk. I want to be broken down, I don’t want anything!” A YouTube short is playing automatically on my computer in the background as I write, auto-cycling a new one in every 10-15 seconds.

“You’ll ride the Grayscale Bitcoin Trust ETF around the neighborhood” he said. I told the video I wasn’t interested in owning a piece of the city,

I just don’t want to be a whore anymore.

The wind around the red house today is up and down, giving the trees that audible hushing sound. The Fruit trees are heavier and hold their place, lemons are under developed and just lean into it - they don’t move much. According to legal variances in this neighborhood, every house is 15 feet apart. I think about that space a lot.

The invisible and unsaid all live there, stuck between houses on the cheap fence line. That’s me and you baby. “Mind The Gap” they say.

I need stimulants and input to make it thru the day. There’s coffee or weed, even taking a shit is a stimulant when you’re doing the math on how you’re still alive. You’re lining up your daily activities, as you notice and label a feeling as “lonely.”

You make an extra coffee and suck the foam off the top as it tries to overflow, not lonely anymore. Me and the wind don’t care, have nothing to sell you and all the time in the world. My dick is off for the day, I need to feel a different way. If the wind wasn’t the wind I’d think it was the ocean - I can close my eyes and see the wind as waves, the trees as palms leaning so far to the side they’re touching the water. The last chunk of land nobody has ever shit on, I’d like to sit there. You stop writing and your head is in your hands, you’re running numbers on new girls. You feel broke, it’s hard to meet people like this.

You keep drinking your coffee waiting for something to happen. You think desperation is the lowest form of creativity, if you’re trying to write yourself out of a hard situation, let me tell you walking works better. Relocate your body across a state line or stop going to your twelve step meetings.

I stopped going to meetings after the third, because my issues are my engines. I’m not ready to stop - I don’t want to remove my free will in exchange for good sleep. I’d rather feel possessed. I’d rather fuck her for research, I like being stretched.

Your phone is the perfect gift for an inmate. When people wrote letters and mailed them one at a time, we had no choice but to address what we wanted directly. We had to risk, something. Releasing your cum into your hand instead of putting it inside someone, is that thing I was saying about the fence line.