I want to be a soldier,
bedecked in ruthless jewelry.
I am trying to get back home.
Screens hiss and snow in a blue haze.
Hunter S. watches TV in some Vegas bar.
Snakes crawl out of the festive carpeting.
Nixon emerges, fleshy gargoyle in a cloud.
"Sacrifice", he repeats, languid and lucid.
Ancient dream, whiskey stream gleams.
Verbs start to pile up at the seams.
I want to be a soldier.
TV in my shot glass
an intriguing alcoholic haze tied together in the end with effective rhyme...I sure hope I never see a fleshy gargoyle when I look up in the clouds with each of his hands holding up peace signs....yikes....
you're freaking me out, man......you really think Gonzo is in Vegas ?
you're freaking me out, man......you really think Gonzo is in Vegas ?
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
Scary. I never know what I'm going to write. Gotta stop that. Was going to write about soldiering. Then that second or third shot kicked in like perestroika and for some reason I landed on that scene in Loathing where HST catches a hazy Nixon moment on the tube... Makes no sense. Wouldn't surprise me if Gonzo was still a whacked-out casino ghost from time to time...
- stilltrucking
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