Van Gogh Answering his Cell Phone

No one should call their own mother “fucking crazy”, especially a day before Christmas. We have it out in front of my paid for apartment while my current lover sits inside. He may be reading, engrossed in the leather bound V 2 of the Sandman series, or he’s listening in a precarious position. Just lifted slightly with one arm, while straining a recently whiplashed neck.
I don’t want to be that person anymore. To be outside explaining to both sides, “I know he/she/they are really great on the inside”. That sort of diplomacy fits poorly upon me. The attempt, really to beg, for someone else to stretch their own hatred to a form of kindness spills out of my mouth like a dead fish. The fish be it salmon or guppy, nothing good comes out of it, it’s just a fish. That doesn’t make any sense, but I realize that it doesn’t make any sense. You see, well you don’t, but what I mean is that I can’t produce the right words, save “you’re fucking crazy”. The problem isn’t only my lack of proper diction, but I have no loyalty. Now, more than ever my beliefs are too strained.
I’m imagining a little girl pulling gum from my head. Maybe it’s just tangled into my brown hair, but she’s there standing over me while I lay on the ground. She begins her dig like any archeologist slowly, and with tools. One finger squishes and is then stuck in the gooey pink. Inquisitively, she pulls it to her nose, nods and places her hands into the gobs of “sticky stuff”. No longer methodical she’s running her hands through me and takes notice of something to her right. Then she’s off. Fingers still plump with the gum, while she moves away. The pink clumps become transparent strings leading elsewhere. They haven’t broken yet, barely visible...
Matt read something that made him very upset. It was a leftover, not like the one Robbie tried to eat, but still something left in a box for far too long (even before Thanksgiving).
My pride has plum cut me tongue.
Ahh and my little cousin has distracted me from this blog.

Punkmaster: i hear some rum callin my name
aboulomania07: ha, that's it. If you can't be in islands...then something something, rum
Punkmaster: hell yeah