Apologies for my lax posting real life has been a bit of a bugger recently . Spelling error are not intended and will be corrected
Foggy, oh how I love the smell of the freshly insane in the morning dew. Looks like a win win day all around. Recoil at remembrance of this bad old south. Oh crap they are coming can’t you hear the smell of the old soft metal stench that is public transit. Added gardenia’s to mask the smell of the dope. It keeps everyone in the professional grade pussy line. They figured out long ago that the cartoon Joe kills too fast and cost too much in state run hospital stays. The all parts nitrate infused hotdog sales offset the cost but they still fall short of recovering the expenses. The Mittens says who would have gas guessed public transportation would be such an efficient delivery vehicle. It’s fiscal salvation at the end of an exhaust pipe.
Moving on out, corralled strangers in each other’s arms …so what is your name dear? Ambient noise and professional use of recreational drugs distracts just long enough to forget that question was ever asked. The viaduct gates open for just long enough timed movement outside the perimeter. Not many notice at first. This is nothing more than a foggy morning concrete mountain breakdown. First light may show the first to go but, panicked faces turn left right and fail again. Momma always said to look both ways but, no-one knows what to look out for. Seriously don’t believe many have been outside of the perimeter fence or even knew about it. Yet there is not one is prepared for what lay out there. Sky has changed colour; the broadband connection must be down; nothing is coming in or going out. Scaling noises dead out over the network. It is Monsoon season outside the viaduct.
Driving rain; those long black cars speeding over the provisional viaduct habitat. What’s your name, you going far, do you need a lift? The free coffee refill Waffle House boys digging for information. Digging for dirt, can ya dig it? So what’s going on in that pipe dream tunnelled subway in between? Stand well back of that yellow line, it’s moving quickly those best years. Brain babies stamped with ownership claimed by the Orlando triad. Blue baby green started the long run young. Point lockout point, wandering carelessly close to the edge; staring blackly at all this place has on offer. Wreckage; the wreckage at Jaxport, the Winn-Dixie state of mind distribution centre lies desolate and destroyed and the big WD sits off centre. Graphittied by rival factions of the Waffle House boys and the more upmarket KK gangs.
Rivals vie for real estate and attention. Real estate distressed from the damages during the astro turf wars. The shuttered remains of Alltel stadium reduced to ruin while old puzzled jaguars roam the field looking for a game.
Hot Dogs: PO packets available in the Joe memorial boxes. The hollow that echo’s straight through to the hollow stomachs.