Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Clack clack clack... an old highway reads like a new page. The lights go by. Brighter brighter all the way to Vegas. Words bump into each other in my empty swollen and shrinking head. Click click click... The guide tracks to a highway song. The steering wheel is round then not round then round. Want to see something realy scary? I don't know if I want to anymore, but I cannot resist the pull.

As the first round of chemical amusment fades the second wave comes on strong. My travelling companion, the thug in the seat next to me, has enough time to say "burning hair" before slipping into an epileptic seisure. No more marching powder for him. Sick is twisted but unwinding slowly.

Three, two, one... A highway sign seems to walk on giant stilty legs toward the space and time the car will occupy. It kicks at the door as we thunder by. A near miss. Bastard signs want us to leave before we get there. Out of the light to black.

The thug is awake again. I can't spare the time to explain what happened to the time. I only manage to say "It's all relative".

We are in agreement. Clack, clack, clack.





2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Keep up the good work. thnx!
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Saturday, August 12, 2006 11:40:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Your are Nice. And so is your site! Maybe you need some more pictures. Will return in the near future.
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Friday, August 18, 2006 2:49:00 AM  

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