Friday, March 25, 2011

Shit On Your Windshield

Currently jamming...

Lines get thinner, thicker, crooked; each one an intimate, painful crackling scream by the city, but humankind doesn’t feel it and wouldn’t recognize it until it shivered a bird fiercely enough causing it to shit on humankind’s car’s hood; and in better cases the windshield.
Those lines define relationships between us. It defines what is a friend, an associate, a confidante, the endlessly endearing acquaintance; a stranger, and a stalker.
Television is usually the last media on my mind, mind you I rarely watch it but the noise is priceless. I need noise, that’s why I keep a television. I have music, music instruments, headphones, things that are more dangerous when shattered, and things that purely go BOOM.
The neighbor-baby shrieked. It bellowed a handful’s more. One of the cars left the house, Neighbor Baby occasionally screeching now, but occasionally, harmoniously grunting. Silence settled for an impressive amount of time, even long enough for the missionary car to return home just in time for them to continue being a family – if they choose.

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