he didnt care for his state of mind todayhe wasnt blue  wasnt angry    malaise  that was it

malaise colouredrouged tintedbruised   perhaps cinnabar chili red

so he wanted  to  let   go

                             just let go

grab ahold of something playful

 

something his buddy said last night

                                    after a Blue Dream ediblecoffeebeers before not creamy potato leek soup

it tickled him

maybe they were being ridiculous riffing  he was good at it

he couldnt remember the commentwhat context was that preceded it

buddy said

             Great job bro!

heard him distinctly

                    yet once it entered his earsentered his head WHOA cried his interiors  theyve tried since he was a boy to terrorise himthey were obsessed  he was tickled

                                                    inside his head they flipped the phrase he concurredloved to concur especially with them gave meaning to their lives

                                                   out loud he said NO Great bro job

buddys eyes popped You said wha?

Ya heard me

Great bro job?

Ya heard me

Great bro job.  My . . that certainly . . colors . influences . .

. . Corrupts . .

. . Possibly . . one’s imagination.

Yare welcome to it

Great bro job . . flows . it’s fluid . .

. . Cums

ridiculousness paired with sexual innuendo always made him feel better

malaise shrugged stuck its fist in its jacket pockets turned tail took a couple of steps kicked a stone

                                                                                                         wasnt a good kick

when it reached the stone going to kick it again it whiffed

                                                             it could feel his eyes on its back

                                                                                                 it quitcontinued walking on to its next gig elsewhere

1557,  Thursday,  13  1. 22

1229,  ReggaeFriday,  14  1. 22