Wandering Journeys

On By dancingpalmtreesIn Uncategorized

Another sleepless night at yet another flea bag hotel motel filled with stinky fungus filthy shit smells.

Trout Pout. Toothless Grins.

Fool on The Hill

Woken up by banging garbage trucks and banging couples beating their heads along with various other body parts against the headboard filmsly glued to the threadbare walls. Pillows round my head. TV turn up still doesn’t drown out the animal grunting sounds.

Coffee and cigarettes. Tea and toast. Then it’s off to yet another meeting. Yet another convention.

Somebody reminds me that it’s yesterday, today or tomorrow. Or perhaps all three together.

Send them on their way. Send them on their way.

Bubbled. Bagged. Packed and DONE.

Wanderers dispatched inside within Tornadoes, Blizzards, Hurricanes, Earthquakes and Mudslides.

Blitzed with Noise from both within and without.

Journeyman. Journeyman! When will I see the light of day?

Journeyman! Journeyman! Where will I be?

Loop. Repeat.

Yet another night in a dingy dirty flea bag motel. Located in still another decrepit long forgotten Fly by night by the hour on the

outskirts greasy spoon dive backwater SROs. Dirty needles and used condoms litter the floors making pathways to dodgy stairwells.

Trains running backwards and upside down.

Vanquished

Residents fixed in place. Darkness of days. Cosmic inversions. Moonless of nights.

Mutilated People have mutilated dreams.

Backhanded compliments seeking FORGIVENESS while repeating their sinful insults over and again. Feigning confused innocence so transparent I see the smirk on your face. Demons wearing Angels Wings.

Trust broken. Friendship never was.