Wednesday, November 22, 2006

33 Black.

I was thinking ealier about the increasing ammount of blockage in my right nostril and the Atlantic City boy who bet it all on the cancer in his leg and all of the loneliest people in this world and the debate comes to mind between what's worth more...personal sucess or the feeling of being loved. The girl next to me laughs but when she does I instictively turn because it sounds like she is crying. What a horrible illness. To sounds like you are crying when actually you are laughing. Her boyfirend says he wants a beer and there she goes crying again. Or is she laughing? Laughing at his alchoholic tendencies. Maybe she is amused by the way he slurs his words. Or the way his palm strikes her milky face night after the night he suspects infedelity. Why is it that the only place cancer ridden boy feels safe is Atlantic City? Maybe it's the one place where no one feels safe. Where depending on the spin of a roullette wheel anybody could be just as well off. And maybe we are all growing a cancer deep inside of us. The girl who laughs as if she is crying, the blockage in my right nostril, the boy who gambles on life...

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