loud-mouthed on the comedy-hour

[Sepia]

The clock strikes seven and we all remember it's important but we don't really know why. We feel the storm brewing, humidity on the rising, everything choking on itself, the air stuffed with old memories because there's that scent that none of us really know or remember and like the gas that will kill you you don't feel it, not upon you. It becomes stagnant around the table, all of us suddenly stopped eating and we're watching old deaths pass in each others eyes, older memories still resurfacing before it begins to rain, at first a little. Then it pours and we are dragged into it, from our civilized conversation something primal in our heads twists and turns, here comes the storm.

Tomorrow they'll sit in the park again and sing here comes the sun and by then all of this will be over and we hope we've done something memorable by then for the storm is always ending. The perfect backdrop, we should have asked if someone wanted to marry us or we should be drunk and dancing in the streets, we should do something out of the ordinary so we'd have at least that to dissect. I kept writing but I thought of different things as every instinct urged me towards action and not away from it because the backdrop is primal, like eating raw red meat after you've been starving.

The poodles don't grow, they diminish, returning where they came from and so do we before the clock strikes another time. What we seek in life is the ejaculation. The physical, the emotional, the intellectual. The sudden moment when you are nothing but you move freely, the orgasm, the love, the moment of clarity. Places where you changed you ejaculated. You came all over us in violent explosions when you changed, your manifestation became more, coherent, vivid. More real. You did not sneeze when you changed, you gave the world a pearl necklace.

Did you change back? Doppelganger, doppelganger. Did you revert? Did you choose when you changed or did you just let it ride you, did you let it take control? Was the change you desired to lose control? You sit in all your pale glory and I see pestilence riding on your back and around this dinner table, I see them all, the ones that made the stories your grandmother or priest told you, I see the evil of man, I see gluttony in all forms, I see men and women who want change because it's change and I see the downfall as it will happen and has happened and will always

happen

There is no getting out of this, they're too deep but Allen Ginsburg had it right and it hadda be barked over LOUD speakers. You wanted change but it was because you were bored, you didn't want to do nothing so you wanted everything else to entertain you and you're reading this now because I'm writing it to you and you know you will go to hell, you know it exists and you will be thrilled when you get there.