FIRKIN I Unedited

Fervent; and no longer bitchin, nor in the BOSWASH sitting.

I the newbie rook “in action missing”, in the table nook position, against all of my life’s dreams and ambitions, again was in another edition of “this here dream”, “another awkward rendition”. Yet stable and ready for “the serving of the food in purgatory’s lane”,

Inside “servin for certain” I was the previous food monger, in the new dream’s kitchen, against the advice of surreal looking and surreal sounding physicians, I was the very definition of a lone homo sapien so brave on display as a forced public exhibition, the evil things around me were counting their countdown digits. on the nook’s stone cold table; her, his, or sh

all I say the dietitian’s technician’s meal, came again

Right there so fast and “urgent” with a “more food encore”, the reign of “The Game’s” “from the sky’s cooking game face and mittens” had a descent through the cloud partition. He was my new patrician, and the secret recipe had a too the dream land admission, it came straight from what I myself previously called spain, The apple fell straight from the “ville” of addiction, onto my makeshift table plane.

Kite’s; bees; birds; serpents, over me, in the sky and way over yonder, For my head looking up so nervous, next to the “lugubrious game’s” zoom in on me so different with also a listen, had a swarming lighted up Hoo Hooing mission. The biblical angels around me too waiting on my abolition which stood for religion, made me take the lord’s name in vain.

In the mode of bites I called shot’s from a burner, I was ready to be “dig in learned”. The surreal land beside me was already conquered. still, I was in “a not so pleasant jurisdiction”, the creatures around me were still hissin, free jazz behind me with little inhibition, had the brass horns like dominos trippin, but my plate from above just glistened. I was ready to move the bread and the jelly’s chains.

Next to me then, to tempt me with my previous crimes, It was that time, those hands too were my servent, I just had to be the new guy loner and hermit, he knew the presence of me was bad and my too much previously perfect narcasistict personhood was a mortal societal disturbance.  Hell’s hand from the previous dream resurfaced. on the table the devils word was, clear, the butter he placed next to me also stood for fear.

my addiction had my horrendous dream mode’s friend’s distain.

I still was food coma hurtin, but there she was next to me, she was important.

I woke up sitting next to the Firkin, I was the get back to work merchant

I could be stronger, no longer could I be a goner, no more playing games

I could no longer throw away my life down the drain.

I then went walking down the road, To the “Butter Exchange” It was the beginning of my brand new life, and time again to be sane.

- AD

- 5/5/24

- 12:05pm

FIRKIN I

FIRKIN I