And the Kitchen Sink…

“Do you think you are starting to become desensitized to these things?” The accordion opens the track and his words rest on the looping sound. Living off borrowed time the clock tick faster. Quite a large mess has been made; must find time to clean it as soon as I can. The car is disgusting and she looks no better and it is all a shame. What did she just say? “Do you think you are starting to become desensitized to these things? Words fly out my mouth hit the windshield slide down the glass fall into the air vent drip into the engine and converse with each other about how difficult it is to feel much of anything these days. The engine is rather speechless and merely shrugs, asking if it can bum a cigarette. Wow, I feel alive! She does not care to listen to what I said and she leans her head against the car’s window and her shining blonde window presses onto the glass and I can swear the glass is melting in those golden locks. I should probably say something. I mean anything would be better than nothing, I mean for God’s sake her hair is melting into the glass, or vice versa, (it is pitch black outside [similar to the eternal darkness of the studio set behind Charlie Rose and his guest], save for the stars which look so damn stunning tonight [not that she looks any better in the moonlight, though, as one may have hoped], and I do not want to ruin the mood so I better keep my lips sealed before I create more of a mess than there already is [if that truly is possible].) perhaps I will just keep mute on the entire subject of the glass-hair-melt phenomenon. The parking lot is empty. “Do you think you are starting to become desensitized to these things?” I wish this song would just end already, it bored me from the second it crawled out of the speaker. Politics, now that’s a thought. Mitch McConnel takes a large bite out of John McCain’s neck and if someone could just spare some federal funds to provide the old veteran with a napkin to stop the bleeding… I’d rather not discuss political views, thank you very much. She’s staring at me, clearly waiting for me to respond to whatever nonsense she sent my way. I lean over to kiss her and I receive a quick punch to my abdomen. Jesus Christ that hurts, but what doesn’t nowadays. I think the children should be kept from the adults. “Don’t you feel anything anymore?” I laugh, not an appropriate chuckle, I fucking let out a strong belly laugh and I am delivered a firm slap against my cheek. “I think it is time you took me home.” Sure thing, I drive off. “Don’t you think you are starting to become desensitized to these things?” Had better roll up what’s left while I can, taking everything…


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