Hocus Pocus

Hocus Pocus

The metal prickly things hit me when I wasn’t looking. I was looking but it’s like looking out of binoculars, I need third person perspective sometimes. I need the perspective of a CIA agent that follows people or a peeping tom but without the illegal looking. The stem of the brain is settled in, the deck of cards shuffles quickly like the dealer is in a rush and it’s just a friendly game of Uno. I got no one to play it with, had to spend two quarters to a thousand to play it with the tv. It’s pouring out with shivers of thunder and this leather hat is keeping my hair laid with warmth. This warmth from my hat makes me feel like my ears are above my head like the pokey horse that is friends with gumby. My eyes are nothing like those guys, I think they are having an aneurism or have some kind of brain trauma with those pupils. My pupils are as narrow as the blade of a knife that the Apache tribe brandish within their arsenal. Charging at me with a set of horse jaws, i’d put my car keys under my tongue and get nervous too. The man on the other side of the fence is giving me shit, talking about my junk. The wooden rocking chair sits in my driveway until further notice and the yard will be cut when I get to it, it’s not like it attracts yardbirds. In his day, you could treat hysteria with a couple smacks. The old man yells at the clouds with his head all clouded. Nagging me about not blowing cuttings onto his property, i’m not gay so I won’t be blowing his property but I wish he’d change his fence from those shitty shutters so it doesn’t leave any room for him to make a glorified hole.This whole cul de sac could use some depressants, those kids across the street used my name in vein. I retar the half circle street with black tar and got called retarded for half a week. If those kids don’t change then they’ll stay the same, blue lips and fingernails from candy while still living at their parent’s home. Had to fix the street so that the pot holes doesn’t scare off customers. I got customers that want me to put stuff on shirts, pictures and words with numbers. Usually the hand working people want it for cheap, all in super black speedball ink. The sex drive leaves when you are busy, my offspring is in a comatose state for the time being. The government sends me powder milk again, it must be for a family that used to live here before me. How this happens, I don’t know. I wonder but not ask questions, just let them happen. Will I be the next “The Strokes” or will I get a stroke like the guy from “Different Strokes”? I just hope i’m no animal in the afterlife, hunted down for my leather by a guy wearing synthetics. I’ll stick with the instant coffee in the fine white china, it goes good with this bagel that is covered in poppy seeds. I like boats like Mr TNT but everything in your life has to come together like Voltron. Just cause it rains, don’t mean there is room for your boat in the lake. Parked in the front lawn, escaping parking fees. Can’t allow it to have dry mouth and get all itchy from the barnacles from above, rust. Everyone wants a boat until the nausea and vomiting kicks in, the smell of fish is too extreme for the average mate. The sun goes down and I conveniently get drowsy, the spinal cord feels like it is made of velvet corduroy fabric. Bullwinkle is my counseling, the stuff that gave kids convulsions and seizures to kids in the 90s when you flip through the channels hard enough. I said I says to man in the medical uniform, “Hocus Pocus, nothing in life matters but the heroin that I left alone”.