loss

it escapes you. through your fingers like dried, coarse earth.

dragonaut

there is always a looming sense of abandonment at three a.m.

you might see another car as you drive, another set of lights in the distance inching closer to confrontation. they might see you also.

you pass each other slowly. both drivers hold their breath.

there is a burning in the pit of your stomach.

there is a burning living thing trying to work it's way up your throat and out of your mouth.

both drivers exhale.

they are now red lights in the rearview of your mirror.

four day weekend

unemployment is a strange trip. slow, lethargic as the wheels pick up inertia. it goes on and on until weeks pass. you're looking at a month, maybe two. you grew a beard, lost some weight, drank more than usual. you found yourself wandering across the county lines looking for a new deal or a new salvation. you might end up in some los angeles barrio driving with good fortune or rooting through dusty flea markets with japanese tourists. you cover freeways and highways in the rain and in the day and always at night. you keep going. full steam ahead. no work. you write, try to write, drink then write, try to stay awake, write and wake up again and do it the next day in succession. you're beard is looking better now, the mustache is starting to connect. you need a haircut one of these days but why fool yourself? haircuts are vanity and you only want a haircut. the bags under your eyes have gotten bigger but not from the lack of sleep but from the late nights and afternoon wake ups. once again, why fool yourself? it's from the parties. the train keeps rolling. you're a working man still. working hard on a hard life of hard drinking. but why fool yourself? life isn't hard when you can sleep as much as you like. try to get some slumber before the train stops.

you'll wake up and not know where you are but why fool yourself?

you wouldn't have it any other way.

languages

listening to voices trying to pull out words. voices saying sweet nothings.