... ..when shit and memory degrade ....September 7, 2004   After the drinking stopped, I was exiled.  Living among ghosts in a Hall of Mirrors, my spirit was neither broken nor uplifted.  It was simply sober and solitary.  Over time, I splintered and sheared, my parts reconfiguring as though painted by a Cubist.  Words issued forth then, spontaneously and often, like psilocybin mushrooms sprouting from shit after a spring rain.  But years have passed and the shit has degraded to fertilizer.   I cannot bring myself to spread it for I've forgotten what was planted. previous..|..current..|..archives..|..3d quarter index..|..next

©  2004 by the beastmaster