The Obscure

Flaming khakis, exploding every hour, on the hour, destroying every living thing within a forty foot radius.

My sleeping pills have kicked in and are going at full strength. I'm listening to the Doors on my headphones and I am going to challenge the clonodine to a battle of wills. I am going to see if I can make it through this entire album, a pretty impossible undertaking, seeing as it's entirely impossible; and I won't even have the lucidity to remember what it is I am doing in like five minutes.
But all around me nations crumble! Who is to say that I am not the embodiment of the eye of this political storm? What if I am? What if I'm NOT?!
I'm on my way to the end of the world, you can take a bus there now. It's a seven dollar fare, but it doesn't matter, you won't need money there anyway; and it sure beats the millenia of waiting around that we used to have to deal with. Man, those were bad times.
Hang on a minute, I'm gonna have a cigarette. I'm quitting smoking, but sometimes on a night like this, you gotta give a little.


Actually, you know what, I'm a fucking terrible writer. I'm really awful, I don't know why I even try to do this shit. End Post.