GPS DEAD ZONE

GPS DEAD ZONE

we walked aimlessly through the streets, rain fresh glazed on the concrete. we weren’t going really far. he smoked a doobie. the cops were on patrol. i lit up a smoke & bought a coffee at the corner store… anything to do something yet nothing. no money besides $9.08. no loitering signs outside. The women came out & gestured us to move on along. a cute kitty came up to us next to an abandoned house. hopefully he had food & a place to crash like our hapless homeless souls. this girl at the bookstore was dressed to impress, gothic fishnets & all. jus sitting around now… nothing on the agenda. life is starting to come together — moving into my own condo in a month. two packs of Marlboro Reds, some benzodiazepines & i’m set. Come & smoke with me. Come & die with me. the birds are all hibernating. i hibernate too. in my hoodie. i wash up. smoke. sip some coffee. listen to music. life’s alright sometimes when you don’t look too deep into it. winter break & solstice beckons good cheer. i sit in vague hopes for a spot to call my own, music booming off the subwoofer. call me what you want, but all i ever needed was to write to music. the boys are all telling war stories, watching some show. i’m out of sight in the back room, cranking listening to loud tunes. nightmare through back alley streets ends here. she smokes, the air trickling out the open window. i’m sipping another coffee after popping two pills. nobody’s mourning me. i sit at the table, inhale morning air & say a prayer to the Heavenly Father. why is everyone so preoccupied. i am too. i really do need to head to the mall for some retail therapy. it’d do me well. but i been broke. at least my music bangs. this is all so futile, they said. what are you so mad about. Rollie cigarette & some tea. The film has no place here. maybe i’ll start filming aesthetic shit on a camcorder. life’s about the little things. hydrate.