You think you know.

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You read about some things and you think, you think you know. You read about some other things and realize that those initial things were all wrong. You crumple up the beating ideas and shove them under the couch cushion. You sit on them and forget them. You eat potato chips perched over the bones of ideas that were once beating. You think about the television and how no one really calls it that, and how everyone fights over whether it’s clicker or remote. You hear crunching, crinkling, some strange noise. Up goes the cushion, and you see those old ideas. Blue ink blood blots where words made their last gasps at being heard. You put them one by one into a paper shredder and say a prayer to the linoleum. 

Created: Feb 23, 2012

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