Q: it is the morning just beyond the rave
and i wake up hot and refreshed
more than i would post most regular events
i arise w/the sun like a babe fresh in face
more than forty minutes before my roommate even gets back home
gus, that party animal, no doubt still out carousing rowdy with the other flockers
the late night rabble-rouser
so i have the cabin space to me and myself all alone
& tho the light's a bit washed out, for an odd reason i can't tell
it all feels right and good, this new morning
something golden in how the new rays glisten through my window
i am thinking in sing-song, & the birds outside chirp along
la dee da di da dee la la
dear earl
[her phone awakes w/ a chime]
there did occur last night some indescribable moments of wonder
everything went how it was expected—and better
though i passed out half past ten even by then i could tell
the team was clicking again last night, on several levels
this ivy wrought its purple magic cross the seven heaven'd fence
making nine times loveliest clouds, the bluest flavor red
connecting hearts of those who'd usually been twain
jack & marie broke up, again
and we hope that it will stay like that, as them two just friends
& we are all the better for it—the team more cohesive sans all their faux bullshit
gus & dex are on the mend
recovered lovers finding time they'd never made enough to spend w/one another
this viny thru minkowski space entwining heavy singularities to sit in, together
but fuck them (& i hope they did, each other, instead)
most importantly what happened was
oh earl, you'll never guess it
me & hamish danced for the briefest lovely moment
when we tangoed in that grotto i felt as if our manual appendages were magnets
meant & attracted to handle only each other's digits
we kissed once—before i had to go and conk out unexpectedly—
but it was the sweetest shock i've ever tasted
and i wonder how the silent symphony's rest played out
oh well—i'm sure i'll found out soon enough
[gus enters, disheveled]
Q: speak of the devil and her hooves do clop upon the threshold
how wenteth last night after i left? wait wait don't tell me:
my guess is pretty fucking swell because holy shit you look terrible
hit me w/ all the sweet deets, you little sexy fucking psycho!!
[gus slumps into her chair & raises eyes to QNC, face trembling
she tries to cry but nothing happens
she is exhausted, drained, and approaching totally deadened
her mouth opens; E steps between gus and the audience]
E: not to obstruct your view of what precisely happens
or block ears from hearing just the elongated phrases gus said
the thing is, tho, the exact words are unimportant, so i might as well
cut straight to the the gist of it, which were
[E steps back]
G: q, hamish is dead
[beat (x2)]
[beat]
[beat]
[beat]
Q: as what gus tells me sinks in
i sink with it
and as the world just keeps on crashing round my ears i try to fall as deep as i can
to get faraway from it all
to be totally unencumbered by nothing
on every side sufficiently hung a significant distance from everything else
so as to remain untouched by tragedy's poisonous ink
R: and she thinks then
Q: i'd like to live in a sensory deprivation pod for a time i think
to be a black box in only a black box with not a fear of fly- or sinking into anything
just me & my nucleus accumbens
chilling, unproductive and somewhat unfulfilled
but okay w/just what i have in myself
mostly reluctant to be out here any longer in a world that just'd rather not tolerate the intrusion of my subatomic views upon a substrate that's still wedgie-trapped in classic premolecular glue-filled high school bathroom like stalls of disjunctive pre-determinate opinionated overly abrasive stucco walls made of all the thoughts we've had before
i can't take in all this unforsaken input
i am undone by this dramatic change in score
i no longer feel as if i'm winning the game anymore
there is nothing to say for my hopes of remaining around
everything i love has drowned
and i let the deluge loose myself
[her voice cracks]
this is not the turn
down which i thought my life would wend
ending someone else's, i.e.
and specifically another that i thought i loved
fuck me and my fucking drugs
G: as a kid i'd never thought i'd be athletic
so coming to terms w/that development
of being good at something in a sporty fashion
to be honest i'm not quite sure i can handle it yet
i am a newly liberated narcissist
from chubby bones been lifted out
my own skin toward the heavens
that had secretly lay deep within
and it's so unexpected a turn of events
that in essence i have become someone not quite outside of myself yet but looking inward nonetheless and a wee bit down on what i was
and in the mirror not sure what i'm seeing
who's her?
still shocked—shell turvy-&-topsied—
every time i don't drop it
i know no god but disc itself
no religion needed besides the spin i myself give it
ultimate sits within myself
Q: and i thought that this meant there were gods in all of us
hidden immortals waiting for the gladdest crack to shatter all the misconceptions we try to attach to others, to attack them
these li'l better mental monsters of self-constructed adamantine shells frozen, waiting for a vital spark to light it up
set the defenses to fireside dancin', some electric slide shit emergently amazin'
if we can only suck in enough herbal keratinous cellulose to build the carapaces golden
i thought i'd found the path to happiness, amidst the rubble laid w/yellow stones and roses flourishing along the sides
but it feels now just thorns—no budding blossoms did not die—in the tornado i made for and of myself, torn up the road brick by brick by these hands
stacking grands; snapping bands; all for what?
it smells a lot like naught, right now
fuck me and my fucking drugs
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