garble

I've got nauseous thoughts of a 200 pound grey haired grandma waiting in the autopsy room with an abscess in her belly the size of Toronto and the native americans probably never had this kind of problem, enough bear blood to cure the whole country back then, I could stew any animal for days without water if they tied me to the ground, but today it's a whole lot different, you can't leave the house without a chainsaw or something silver, come to think of it I haven't worn my japanese bladed blazer in over a year, but anyways when you find the tumor, you rip it out, the guts of this old woman falling flat onto the steel table just like vomit, shapeless and miserable, stank like satan's asshole, the inside of her, evil smelling, so human, so deathly, so empty i wanted to wretch my heart up through my throat and just hold it in my hands to make sure it was still beating, cuz at this point i can't feel anything, not even sure the things that move are alive, you were made of dust and clay they write in the books and i got all the ink in the world for a solid book on metaphysics and a good recipe for guacamole but if i spent another minute in that goddamn human meat locker i might just kill myself there in the room and never get to the good stuff, anways what the commotion of placenta and the celebration of birthrights for if you can spill a little wine on the sheets every once in a while? to hell with punctuation, you're here for the booze, the cheap sex and the dirt in your blood every chance you get, pass a long-blade and slide it under your pillow, you know what i mean once you've hand dreams of deadened eyes staring, the fear of being alive, of wishing endlessly into a well you should just throw yourself into, not enough grass in the whole world to pick the worms from out my nightmares, she said it first and she was the last one, too.