sprayhawk

My buddy says he was once baby sat by William S. Burroughs.  And man I’m jealous.  What a mad old man with a gun! Becauase maybe he sprinkled some of that Burroughs dust all over him and now he’s set.  And he says don’t do heroin because of the constipation.  And that’s a joke.  But we met a girl the other night and I was thinking damn she’s a pretty one for being a bit orange but who knows we’ll see how drunk I get.  And I got that drunk and then went flying past that to the point that I was buying gasoline dressed as satan for two dollars.  And my buddy he got gasoline all over him and they were saying man you’ll never get laid smelling like that and he got all infuriated and bailed.  But back to the girl.  We found out the next day that she did heroin and she had just found out that her friend had positived for HIV.  And I was thinking, shit.  Shit shit shit it’s wild how close you sometimes get.  And it’s even wilder that since you got super wild you saved yourself.  Because I can’t chat up women when I’m too drunk.  I can’t do it when I’m sober either but in that in between time, in that few beers still grinning and walking all right and remembering things I’ve said time, that’s when I’m not so bad and I’ve got a shot.  So I’m wondering what it is in that in between time.  Where does that time go?  Where is it everyday?  Because I’m one second dreaming of the greatness of sunshine and then the next second I’m in a dark dark dark dark dark room just wailing and wondering nothing at all.  Just feeling my skin crawl all over my bones and itch it up the whole way.  I can’t shake that thing.  I can’t I can’t I can’t.  There isn’t a thing that can be said and I’m wondering what that thing is.  I’m sure it’s there because I’ve snapped this one before.  But it’s all over me, like I was saying, maybe like a hair coat or something or those undershirts priests wore I don’t know why.  What is it that’s crawling?  Tightening?  Restricting?  Wondering?  I can’t just wonder it all into a little place.  I’m thinking all right, now, boy.  All right.  Just relax.  So I run and I climb and I shout when no one is around.  And when you shout when no one is around then that’s a little wild.  You begin to look at yourself in the mirror and go…hum?  Hum hum hum where did that little flash go?  Or what was it?  And I was thinking just now.  Just this very second, about something that I thought about when I was a little kid.  If light can fill a dark room, then can dark fill a light room?  Is there a dark dark darkness that’ll just burn out lightbulbs?  And I’d sit in my bed and I’d have to have the hallway light on.  But I was always thinking, is the hallway a little darker because my door is open?  Am I working my own angle?  And I’d stare at the ceiling and flick my light fully on and breathe heavy and sweat all seven years old and afraid of my own breathing.  Can’t work on that except just everyday.  Thought I saw a head poking through the window.  Thought I saw a head poking around the door.  Thought thought thought.  There’s that hum.  It’s so real.  It’s so real that I can believe in it to touch it and smell it and think man oh man I’m a wild one.  I’m a wild seven year old prone skinny thing just waiting to bust this place up.  Just looking up around my room and vaulted ceiling too nice for a kid and going man I’m going to bounce all over this thing any second now.  I wonder if the ceiling fan can take my weight?  Could I spin on that thing if I jumped real light?  Why can’t I pick up my feet off the ground with my hands?