After all the cat sex I can’t think. There is that one grand big bang, God being present, stars being born. Then the vast emptiness of space, the freezing loneliness of insignificance. She always wants to go again. I’ll hit the streets looking for something to break the routine, a cure to my mediocre mindset, a drug served as a lightning bolt of creativity.
I don’t have any money though, damn thieves. Made me believe I’d be retired on a paradise beach by now. Instead of recycling cans, counting calories, working for the mentally ill.
For a little while it used to come packages in the mailbox, but then one package never showed and I was paranoid for months on end thinking the cops snatched it. They never called though, but I’m stuck looking for someone suspicious.