|
Editing a scanned-and-OCR'd text for ebook purposes, drinking a pint of Canadian Club and Dry waiting for my brain to boil dry, and listening to This Train Will Be Taking No Passengers...
"We will adjust to this new condition of living like a man with his entrails now out of him not in,
after certain techniques of torture accustoms himself to a new condition of living...train.
Thoughtful godless men find god in them at the age of twenty-five
but in a year death gains favor and they think themselves the more alive,
You'll find them in the loose caboose where the pills are kept and the stupid juice,
This one has a sleeping wheel, this one has a willing noose
- Onward and on to the ends of love, pricked vanity, habit and ruse.
Onward and on to a premature silence where death finds too much use..."
|