Sunday, November 17, 2013

The Hiccups Reign Supreme

Look here it is, after so long.  My second mother is dead but don't look to me for a eulogy, I already wrote one and my dearest Gypsy read it at her funeral today.

These fucking hiccups, these bastard headaches... this poisonous heartache.  Whatever.  They won't give me any more drugs or alcohol.  They want me to go to sleep and rest.  FUCK YOU.   You fucking rest when your mothers are dead and gone.  The last persons who remember your childhood... buried, decomposing in that weirdo Americana formaldehyde.  There's a bottle of wine my lover wanted to save for our anniversary... can't help but feel you withhold the good pain buffers, I take what I can get.  So I'm a fucking mess right now, so be it.

The world will never be the same.  She's dead.

There is but one enduring song I've been humming for months and months and months and months and mooons and mooons and mooons.  Preparing for this, but we're never prepared are we?  Loss upon loss, like sand grains upon sand. Drowning slowly.

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