February 9, 2020
Can we not just start to run, you and I? Letís run for it, darling. Let us put aside our multifarious ills and infirmities and shallow concerns, and simply run for whatever is left of our fading lives. Sclerosis, halitosis, myxomatosis; can we not just frisbee all that fuckery away like a tossed can, and run mad like spilled blood? Take my hand; my veiny, incipiently arthritic hand, and letís start running, right now, polluted wind in our streaming eyes, thickened blood pulsing through our various varicosities... your hand in mine; grey hair and white knuckles. Run for it, lover.