This car was stolen and parked outside the library. Aine would be mental now with rage. No goodbye. No see you later.
Two library staff shelved the books with the radio on.
I lay on the floor. Puffy’s radio show droned on effusively dividing my mind like each wave of the car wipers.
Molly had preferred to listen to the radio. She told me with a grin that television sliced society with a passive cut of cynicism, which was a wound always needing healing. I laughed of course. She could be full of shit. In fact right at this moment I thought I smelled shit on my own shoe probably. picked up from the grass outside.
Days had passed and I still suffered with questions. Since I met Molly I thought her perversion were compatible. Since then I had found myself empty in the bed of my self appointed wife. Loneliness is skin untouched. It is the trap that eats the self. We have to find healthy boundaries to satisfy our deepest perversions of thought. Love is a filtered thing,
I am an asshole but then self loathing has bias. I know my name is Gus but I do not know who I am. I have lots of bits but few pieces. The jicksaw is incomplete and yet my imaginary friend was telling me everything would be okay!