Chemical_laugh_of_Benzedrine

Wet Dreams #9

As I drowned my face in the sink to rinse away the soot,
the oddly real flashbacks resurfaced, hitting hard like a
wave against the desolate shore. Somehow, even though there
is no proof of it ever occuring, it is always the same--
I'm drowning swiftly into the fathomless ocean...in a navy
suit. Past life, perhaps? I struggled for breath, pleading
w/Neptune and finally emerged from the scared depths;
realistically, recovering my face from the sink. As I do
so, I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror, awkward and
raw as ever. It wasn't the same face of my youth; that face
that I'd often see in the reflections of the waves as I'd
stare down from my 7 footer in sheer boredom while waiting
for the ninth one to hump. Naw, it wasn't that overly
sunburnt face of childhood's hour who came alive w/the mere
mention of firing off her first rifle. It was the face of a
person coming of age and eager to burn, burn, burn....

"These boots are made for walking and that's just what
they'll do. One of these days these boots are gonna walk
all over YOU"-- Nancy Sinatra