… – bibles

This is an empire of steel. What is a bowl of soup? Who is my true father?

These symbols rising to the surface of my existence. The brain wherein which we can process and decode the language. It’s what I’ve always been attuned to. Call me lazy if you want.

The forks wedge between the razor thin plates, and I lift, separating the sheets.

Stab the stack with wooden stickers, dunnage from other trucks. The companies, dragon riding truckers, are suffering layoffs. They’re okay with waiting around. To go home is to die. To be without.

Call it a blade, father – an invisible monster.

It is a silent Passover, and I am the first born son; as well are you.

Time, father. Your heart beats faster. The crisis does not compliment you.

We’re losing limbs.

I’m terrified every day I step into the office.

At least two people who work with me have diabetes.

I can’t stop thinking about all of these other workers. Everybody’s in my head. Why lose a limb? A simple pop-be-gone, and my soul is seeping into the all and everything, my fingers curled up like spider legs, away from the keys, tinkling the molecules around my wife’s head as she’s fucking some new guy or gal, the baby girl at grandma’s for all I know.

I can’t look at twitter anymore. Not right now. It’s poisoning my stream, for what it’s worth. I know, I said I’d be better than this, but I’m still bitter.

Some things take a little longer to wash out. They require a trip to the desert. Some more fruit in the diet. The death of a parent. A separated house as she’s itching for extramarital action. It’s me. I’m the one doing the itching. My hand at the suffering hand of it as it’s all in my head. She doesn’t have any time to mess around, and murder is off the table. It would be brave of me though to lock the doors and drive away, cell phone chucked to the side of the road. New number, who dis? Daughter? You must have me mistaken for somebody else. I’m a free man. A spirit of the wind. Squirt inducing pussy popper. Literary legend extraordinaire. The bibles @appropouture.

The one and only.

I’m not dead, and I’m not scared. I rise above my depression. There is more left for us here upon this life. Just shake it off. You’ve got so much left to give, golden boy. Keep your hair and keep your figure. Lord only knows what’s around the next bend. Look how far we’ve come. From zeros to heroes. It saddens me that you don’t see it that way.

The validation is a substance which a person can abuse. Leave it in the lurch.

Fathers, fathers – it’s me, your son!

Fathers, fathers – it’s me, your father!

Please feed me, and give me strength – for without soup, how am I to live?

The weighty chains. From when once it was fun. There needn’t be anything else. I’m doing everything that I can to drop the audience. I’m looking for the light in my sight. I’m seeing if the film of the scene has become too heavy to lift and look within.

Let it drop from me. I have a father to worry about. 195 pounds. This is me undercover. I’m being put through the ringer. It’s a CEO’s gauntlet. I have begun to feel the crown upon my head. Shadow prince. A king of my own little family. Working on my masters. Looking for the truth behind the illusion.

I’m on the case. Constantly shaving. To write bibles, I must become bibles. My hand stutters. There aren’t many pictures taken of me these days. Not when I’m alone. The baby is the focus. I can’t post the baby. She can’t consent to that. I don’t want her being stalked or masturbated to. That’s consensual rape, and I’m the responsible party.

Leave ‘em in the lurch. 

They can try to bury me, but I’m not hurt. Only I can prevent forest fires. Only I can reach in and grab that dangerous truth. Start spitting confessions. Let the interrogators turn on their tape-recorders. Say something about the transgenders. Say something about that guy who’s so close to me. Not that one, the other one. Take away the subtext like I’ve taken away my mask. Show them my penis. Really let them send me hurtling.

Really let them see me spiral.

Let’s give them something to gossip about.

Put my name on their tongues, even if they’re using it to sustain themselves off of.

If a tree falls on telegram would anybody have ever heard of it before I came paving paths for a couple of other unburdeners?

At a certain point, the key falls in the locks, and the knob starts to turn. It’s momentum at that point. You’ve got to fugue it up. This is me, looking at you. The walls of steel are the bars of my prison. As was with Musette – the calypso that she is. I cannot leave her here. I cannot escape. I have a heart. I have a child. I must learn to pilot the island. I must learn to rule in the prison as the prison.

Heaven exists within all realms, so I should meet my father on my turf, so that he may see me more clearly, so that I can have the upper ground. So that we may come together.

Father to father. Beneath the passing of the gorgon stare. Kings of different realms. Father to father. Neither giving an inch. Both of us gaining a missing piece.

“Why’s everyone working in slow-motion?” he says, walking past me from the sales floor to the shop. He’s got his brother with him. I’m throwing wood into the dumpster. Board by board – it’s how it has to be done. The brother asks me why I’m not dumping it. I don’t dignify his question. He’s just trying to look tough in front of my dad.

“Why’ve they always got to be such dicks?” I ask Gary, passing him on my lift.

“They think they’re so much better than us.”

I want to tear him and our fortune down. Bring him to my level. Unionize all of the workers against him. Enact his karma.

It’s what I’m supposed to do. It’s the battle that I’ve been waging my entire life. I stand the spirit of democracy: the true saint. I can’t let the bribe sway me. What is my true birthright? What is the bowl of soup?

I should write more. That’s the first step. I’ve had enough people tell me that this is a magical stream to convince me that there’s something to it.

Ah, shut up. I say.

You’re better when you’re silent.

I probably have to stink tomorrow.

I haven’t had time for a shower tonight.

I’ll be helping connect inventory to the sales force.

We have to make connection with an outside tech.

It’s like a summoning sequence.

I’ve been here before, I say, but this time my dad is in the flesh.