coffee' and the rat in the sink (pc)
Posted: January 31st, 2005, 4:40 am
I can't sleep do to the comforting effects of coffee'. Or should I say affect? What ever. Too many cigarettes. Too many things on my mind. But nothing real interesting. No murder or love triangles, nothing that would make a beat novel or beat bio. Nothing that would amount to real human suffering. Just normale every day 21st century tecno-nothing, and automative mad-bots.
The coffee is from coloumbia. It is a good blend. It comes in a brown bag, and sits on the counter with the ground beans surounding it like a cluster of starts-the coffee bag being the center of the universe or galaxy. What ever. The fridge smelling of rotten vegtables and the sinks clogged with choped rotting vegtables. When I put my hand in to pull the plug. I feel some thing and pull my hand out-out of reflex-and a large rat bobs to the soapy surface. I gag, and cough.
The italian coffee' pot "cofssss" and the water boils up and through the coffee' beans and the aroma billows out through the huvel of a house. I rinse a cup out over the rat. I am mumbleing things. I have started to make up words now. "Gargle spit" I say in gibberish inspired glee and I prance around the apartment like a fag.
I like milk in my coffee'. I remember going out to the country when I was a kid. When I could feel the warmth of the love all around me. I watched the cows for an hour, and then I did not feel bad about eating them anymore. They really are useless creatures and the only reason they are here must be to be eaten. Every thing is that easy. All the cows asked for was some grass to grase and the whole eating thing was fine.
Prancing around I run in to the book I had been reading. It, open pages on the floor holding my place. I read. "I can't sleep do to the comforting effects of coffee'." I close the book again. I forgot I had left off there. But I have really nothing eles to add, and still don't untill the knock came at the door at about 8 am.
-Geoff what have you been up to--said a smileing face of a girl my age.
-Nothing. Can't sleep. COme in COme in.--I use my hands the way people do. You know I bekon her in and she comes and we sit at the table. The table is away from the sink. I don't want her to see the rat. I really should of cleaned up. But I had been telling my self she would not come since the momment I asked her to.
-Nice place.--she was just being nice.
-it's a mess--I said and startled her a bit. I am not use to talking to girls. I turn on Tom waits, but his first album. That one is not as drunk as the others.
-I like this music--her brown eyes and hiar. Her voice. Her shoulders. The way she sits, looking and wondering about me like I am some kind of experiment to her.
-so do I.--there was some kind of connection, but then I said:
-why did you come. Do you know I like you?
-yes. I like you too.
-no no but really, you know?--I looked at her and gave her my green pasty smile. From days of coffee' and cigarettes. She looked uneasy. Then she had to go.
I looked out the window. It was too bright. I was not going to chance going out without proper protection. Sun glasses and base ball cap. And a run down to the beer store. Because nothing works out, and she was the point. There was a point and then you had none, becuase your social skills are so, well not exsiting. And there I go with my shits in thought and I am lossing the integraty of my mind and body and soul and love and world, and rat in the sink... but even cows have more going for them than that.
Geoffrey Alexander Parsons
The coffee is from coloumbia. It is a good blend. It comes in a brown bag, and sits on the counter with the ground beans surounding it like a cluster of starts-the coffee bag being the center of the universe or galaxy. What ever. The fridge smelling of rotten vegtables and the sinks clogged with choped rotting vegtables. When I put my hand in to pull the plug. I feel some thing and pull my hand out-out of reflex-and a large rat bobs to the soapy surface. I gag, and cough.
The italian coffee' pot "cofssss" and the water boils up and through the coffee' beans and the aroma billows out through the huvel of a house. I rinse a cup out over the rat. I am mumbleing things. I have started to make up words now. "Gargle spit" I say in gibberish inspired glee and I prance around the apartment like a fag.
I like milk in my coffee'. I remember going out to the country when I was a kid. When I could feel the warmth of the love all around me. I watched the cows for an hour, and then I did not feel bad about eating them anymore. They really are useless creatures and the only reason they are here must be to be eaten. Every thing is that easy. All the cows asked for was some grass to grase and the whole eating thing was fine.
Prancing around I run in to the book I had been reading. It, open pages on the floor holding my place. I read. "I can't sleep do to the comforting effects of coffee'." I close the book again. I forgot I had left off there. But I have really nothing eles to add, and still don't untill the knock came at the door at about 8 am.
-Geoff what have you been up to--said a smileing face of a girl my age.
-Nothing. Can't sleep. COme in COme in.--I use my hands the way people do. You know I bekon her in and she comes and we sit at the table. The table is away from the sink. I don't want her to see the rat. I really should of cleaned up. But I had been telling my self she would not come since the momment I asked her to.
-Nice place.--she was just being nice.
-it's a mess--I said and startled her a bit. I am not use to talking to girls. I turn on Tom waits, but his first album. That one is not as drunk as the others.
-I like this music--her brown eyes and hiar. Her voice. Her shoulders. The way she sits, looking and wondering about me like I am some kind of experiment to her.
-so do I.--there was some kind of connection, but then I said:
-why did you come. Do you know I like you?
-yes. I like you too.
-no no but really, you know?--I looked at her and gave her my green pasty smile. From days of coffee' and cigarettes. She looked uneasy. Then she had to go.
I looked out the window. It was too bright. I was not going to chance going out without proper protection. Sun glasses and base ball cap. And a run down to the beer store. Because nothing works out, and she was the point. There was a point and then you had none, becuase your social skills are so, well not exsiting. And there I go with my shits in thought and I am lossing the integraty of my mind and body and soul and love and world, and rat in the sink... but even cows have more going for them than that.
Geoffrey Alexander Parsons