All my best friends are moving onto bigger and better things, and I feel like I am being dropped off just before sundown in the town of forgotten dreams. A place nobody wants to be, doing things nobody wants to do. Yes, a full pickup is dropping me off on the only dirt road in a one horse town and headed west towards the promiseland. And I'm left balancing a hobo pack on my shoulder and waving goodbye with teary eyes asking where I can hop the next train to nowhere. And in steel cars my ancestors welded I will creep along iron and wood tracks my ancestors built. The same tracks I am destined to repair. And my children will someday tear up the ancient oak I lacquer and replace it with new cedar and crossties, a giant zipper in the dry desert. Free masons believe that wealth and success is inherent in blood lines... I am living attribute to that. Its hard to be a rat with eagles as friends. Its hard to keep up with a brace of hares when you're the only tortoise. One of my good friends is even carrying out my old lifelong dream of attending the Berklee college of music in boston. Another is moving to sacramento. Another is moving to san francisco. The other to san diego. One of them to davis. One of them down south somewhere. All of my previous friends from prior lives can go fuck themselves. You abandoned me in my time of need and left me with nowhere to turn. I've gone rogue. I have no loyalties to anybody anymore. My badge is on the table. No super bowl ring this year for me.
My only loyalties are with the three or four people that mean something to me. And I am now an impermiable ball.
Evisceration must have become a spectator sport... this is me spilling my guts.
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