The Floormate

“Fuck the world.” I said. “Fuck cheering up.”

“Sure kid,” the old man said. “If you want it that way.”

I took off my shirt and lay on the curb.


I’m sure the old man walked off some time shortly thereafter.


My present life is classifiably bohemian. I frequent bars, hitch rides cross country, find odd jobs to do here and there. Colt joined a cult in Rancho Santa Fe and died. There’s no way to escape that which we are, or destined for — but I still run onwards. I’ve maintained that elusive power, the ability to slip away from tragic fate like a mysterious Houdini. Back in our dormitory, I was standing again over the glowing rock collection. I knew nothing about rocks, but the fact those stones were shining like the moon itself.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)