Charity for the Blind

Charity for the Blind



The hills roll of into the distance, an orange hue bakes the skyline, and a slight wisp of cloud runs amok to meet the horizon. The blood soaked her shoes, but seemed clean compared to the events the past few months had dragged her through, she didn’t know enough to love, but was quite certain of one fact; she now knew enough to hate. To hate the hearts and souls of those who had cast their shadows on her world. The ones who held her in the dark for days without food, oh and the noise, the noise, the lack of anything close to resembling physical boundaries, violated in all notions of the word, the wet rags in the mouth, the chains, the blinding lights, the masks, oh the noise the noise, over and over and over again, the smell of burning flesh, the senses too deprived to know if it was her own, no time to latch onto, the only space too abysmal to acknowledge, the desolation of will, oh how she wished to cave in, to have it all go away, to endwell with the others, so accustomed to the rotting stench that was herself the crisp ocean breeze she was now insuflating was fearfully alien, the sirens roar in the distance, victory is ours, praise allah.


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I cant remember the last time i was touched in such away. Especially since i lost my mind to death. Just a body wandering a motionless purgatory, just like the greats. Oh i’m so proud to be walking in the footsteps of the best. You know, i don’t even have to try, it’s just an endless line of mouths, and, luckily, having two dicks, i can always stay in base-deep, with one, and keep on movin’ right on down-the-line. The words fall out of the sky reminding me to turn the dial, to keep the path in tact, and the horses, the horses run free like they should. have you ever seemed to not quite be able to make it where your going? Well not me, i always know where i’m going, questions of doubt have no place in my self, but i have, on occasion, fallen victim to the butcher, the catcher of flies, and the impulsive acid reflex - salt in the wound, it would be, to claim lay to such honor, but at the end of the day, i have no choice. I guess some of us are just great.


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Thin always befriended the liars. It wasn’t necessarily something he avoided, and it wasn’t something he minded. you see, thin himself used to be a liar. Tell a lie today, not a chance he would, but he craved the lifestyle.


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Frog eyed babies stare from their cradles - so desirable - their little feet - their little hands.


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Awhile ago i ran into this guy, we didn’t really have much to say to each other, and i reckon we didn’t really want to say much either, but anyway, we stopped and chatted for a good 15 minutes, just talked, you know, about the new fords. Then out of nowhere he turns a sly smirk, like a trick, and says “can i let’ya in on a litle sea-cret?” and i said, ‘well,okay.’ and he says to me ”i been makin’ that money, son.” a little taken back, and a bit confused, i replied “well excuse me?” and he says “It’s this stuff called crystal meth, ice - it’s a drug all these stars out there in hollee-wood are doin’, you can make it outta stuff from the general store, give it to one em’punk kids ya’ always see smokin, and they bring it to the suburbs and sell it for top dollar ta rich kids, i’m makin’ two thousand buckaroos a day with just a lab in ma garage! -- well listen i could use ah extra set-a-hands, would you be intristed?” and still a little confused, i said to him, “Well, shore.”