Kern Park Beckons.

I am smashing out my addiction today. I'm going to weave through the sidewalks, stepping on cracks and sunspots. I'll float like a feather in a Nico song, and walk through the doors. Those blue eyes. They burn me, burn into me. And they look exactly like mine. Maybe they are mine.

Sweaty skin to skin contact, an instant surge of desire and terror. I am so nonchalant in my wariness. But now, it is time to peel and open the cocoon. I have pupated. Like a feather in the sulfurous air of my neighborhood, next to the burned out and blackened car.