Corrections:

No chance in hell I’m killing anyone. …Ever again.

&

My bedrock. My “rock” bed. …should read: My bedrock. My ..rock ..bed.

Backstory: This dream sequence..treatment..whatever…began as an Illustrated Poem back in some obscure high desert college where I sat on the floor in a totally blacked out room and attempted to sketch whatever came to mind on a legal pad without lifting the pencil off the page. What I sketched was a matchbook with a single match folded out. It looked prettygood. I mean..you can tell that’s what it is. Then I switched on a black light (for a blue moon setting, sorta) and wrote this piece as a poem on the legal pad around it. Later I tied things together a little better. It’s obviously a fictional scene…lol…an anxiety dream perhaps. Crazy as any other crazy dream I guess. What became of the protagonist? I wonder. Probably some quirky Coen Bros or Cormac McCarthy twist of fate or the like.

Hang in there, people. Not sure it’s gonna get any better…but, hey, ..there’s always health & good company. Here’s to your health & good company: Cheers! (Monday. Yikes. Get up and get some…again. Don’t get hit by flying lead.)