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In the fog of the naked morning i sat in a daze. Where was i going to? Where had i gone? Where was i now? I was sitting on a park bench, wrapped in a clich�. I flicked a cigarette. I thumbed the pages of a book of "poems". I whistled a tune. If memory serves, i danced. The rains came. The rains came and washed away all the evidence. I wasn't even sure what the crime was anymore. Who did i hurt? Who hurt me? Details. I sat in the warm rain and sighed a refreshing sigh. No, not a sigh. A roar. My lungs swelled and burst and i spent the afternoon picking up the pieces. It was my heart once. I played the game over and over in my head. The Losers will always lose, but the Winners do not always win. Either way, we are not required to play. But the choice isn't ours, is it? The Losers are always the last to know. By evening i was frightened. Evil is delicious by moonlight and the things that frighten us seek the dark. I had not gotten where i was going. I was alone, tired and desperate. Lost. I was lost. I had lost. At dawn the chill was running back down my spine. It's a circle. Is it a circle? We live in these kinds of ambiguous, self-centered moments. It's all around us and we're focused. I took my seat. The band began to play. All hail. All hail... |