sneak a bite of provolone in the night - leave one slice for the homeowners and skulk away from the fridge - guilt ticks in syncopated time, the twitchy second hand, can’t outrun - got the provolone though, thick comfort - ziploc keeps the terrors beyond a plastic membrane - meat is non-mammalian protein paste, nothing alive or dead, nothing finger-pointing, nothing but something oddly filling, oddly desired, oddly scratching some buried itch
conscience suggests restraint, one slice of provolone was enough, don’t capitalize on this opportunity to mooch from the fridge, don’t take the glut of initiative and sharpen your future jowls on this clean-living kansas family, agricultural loans are a commodity, that middleman is the keeper of this suburban inn
in debt in a wood-paneled, linoleum-enameled house, sustained on the buffalo-cleansed plains, maintained by the banker, fed by his clan, naked pinko citizen of canuckistan sans health insurance, quaint fur-trader, inheritor of false heritage, indian murderer, christ/spice worshipper, shaman poseur, draped emperor, sustained in a fantasy far removed from satori, second zen cousin to nirvana’s mobius strip
nihilistic cheese, unease in my gut, informs me in the nuisance of gastronomic gnosis i'm taking up space - everything ziplocked, ever-shrinking baggies, ever-higher prices, the lightbulbs are flickering, do i really wanna conjure anything?
could sleep the sleep of the just, the just that, the just so, the joe sixpack and jb menthol, the most cigs for your dollar, unfiltered, thousandaire, joe fate, pawn scum, passenger, consumer, phased-out machine tool, sagging, anal leakage - trust the universe is waiting to absorb me
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