And our habits build up with the drag, like Cocaine will build up staying ahead of the C bring down. And the junk was running low. So there we are in this no-horse town strictly from cough syrup. And vomited up the syrup and drove on and on, cold spring wind whistling through that old heap around our shivering sick and sweating bodies and the cold you always come down with when the junk runs out of you... On through the peeled landscape, dead armadillos in the road and vultures over the swamp and cypress stumps. Motels with beaverboard walls, gas heater, thin pink blankets."
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Image #4
