Tuesday, May 17, 2016

I know


I know I sound angry, but nothing could be further from the truth.
The words appear in my head and I write them down as quickly as I can.
Joni Soule gets it. She always has. We were chosen for some task or another even though neither one of us has been presented with any blueprints to study or contract to sign.

I know I sound mad as hell like that guy in Network, but it’s not true.
I’m just a very emotional person and there is nothing wrong with that.
I don’t hear voices, or see visions in my head. It’s all rather dull till all of a sudden like a bolt of lightning I must get to the keyboard before the moment passes and I’m left with nothing but thoughts of what could have been.
Joni Soule gets it. She always has. I remember when I first spied her at the camps. She was the one refusing to wear the yellow star because she’s never really cared much for pointy objects.

I know you could care less because it’s easier to disregard than it is to breathe the air around Tom Paine’s.
What I’m trying to tell you won’t just disappear like a Tasmanian devil dust cloud of hyperbolic horseshit.
I’m not running for President and the status of class clown no longer interests me like it once did. There’s a bake sale in my mind and I am selling all my grooviest of thoughts at half price.
Joni Soule gets it. She always has. In fact before we ever met there was a place for her in my heart the size of a stage four tumor and if you don’t get what I’m saying that’s okay because death and debauchery and lascivious lewd come-ons are not for the faint of heart no they are for the honest to God dreamers and free thinkers who drink gasoline like it’s water and gobble up TNT like it’s going out of style.

Charles Cicirella

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