the ecstasy of rolling
brighton was sleepy and wailing
sara was worried about the come down and had saved weed. i was worried about everything falling apart.
we walked to a pub
talked to a man who was sitting there
i don’t think i was ‘rolling’
i was observing them.
i was tired of the endless party,
i just wanted to stop the use of a bong made out of a slinkie, coated with yellow windbag material
‘what are you doing philip ‘
why is philip ‘addicted’ to fear,
why is he sleepwalking to the orphanage of catholic nuns
wearing the clothes of his friend seldon?
with his stamp collection in tow?
answer: because of american life,
im worried about being seen wrong;
being on twitter is like
going to a spa party
with the cleverness and the gazing
and the body ultimately being shattered,
on repeating the phrase
‘no fucks given’
when you’ve got some painful work to start
weighing what else could happen
that would be worse;
when it is ‘impossible’ to forgive somebody,
wear a bow on your head to their kid’s party
take out your phone and share photos
it is an error
it is an error to maintain the privilege of nobody laughing at you
when you commit a logical error, and your crust explodes