A weekend of madness.

 "We want to be nice but not stupid."
                                          - David Lynch

    I found myself seeing the dead that my comrades denied.
  Drunk on whatever grows inside of a corpse.
One foot in front of the other all the way down the street.

My friend Brian - "it's a similarity!"
                               "of sorts," said Seth

They were distracted by the dead but
           I had made it to the mountain just to be arrested.
Unnerving as when I drank water from the stream.
I gave Jamie a hug without her consent, so she shook me off and screamed
                       "get off me, dude!"

My friend Brian served jail time for having child pornography.
          So his ex-wife made him sleep on the couch when his young daughters stayed with him.
       A family friend who was a prostitute shared a bed with the children
to make sure no harm came to them from the hands of there father.
Scratching glass with razors, what is the truth no matter the cost?

Still, here I am one foot after the other but one word at a time.
Drew - "are you afraid of God?"
                     "no," said the pot-bellied stoner "because we are unnecessary information."
My memory is like a swan that has been skinned but somehow still alive.
The eyes have legs and follow me around until at last, I break down in tears.
They are hard to pinch as they are wet.
     My fingernails finally get a hold.
         Sudden darkness and a rip (the misplaced pain of stepping on a thumbtack)
             The mold shatters, I lay in bed waiting to die...
               I piss in milk-jugs with the doors barricaded shut.
                 My family applauds my attempt at oblivion
                  While my suicide comforts me with flashing lights.