Scream

It’s an argument that swings in the black hearts of chaos.
Warm, like rats leaving wooden ships that burn in the dark soul of human terror.
Like the first monkey to scream, stop! stop!
He’s eaten by the snake that crawled through the dark of night hunger to pluck him from the tree.
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Power

It was 7 AM and I was driving north on the 101 freeway. It had been raining for a couple weeks, maybe more. We were feeling isolated. The steam and the mist glazed the green mountains. It reminded me of the hobbit books I never actually read, but saw a couple of the movies. If you listen to enough Led Zeppelin you don’t really need to read the books since they stole from Tolkien about as much as they stole from the Blues masters. I exited the 170 at Burbank. I downshifted and realized that Mad Max and I are probably the last people that drive stick shift. I thought about that ring, the ring that hobbit had. Does power truly corrupt? I’d like to give it a test. Where isĀ  my precious?

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