xrazybud

So, there I was, across the room from this gay guy. Someone's talking somewhere but that could be anyone.  It could be the girls sitting on a couch against the wall to my right.  We got camera people with cameras and big fluffy microphones hanging over us. I don't really notice them though. I just know that they're there. That's how it works in reality TV shows. It's real. But it's not. You follow? "Hey, Mark, would you mind rubbing some lotion on my back?" Mr. Gay guy suddenly asks. I'm Mark, by the way. That's me. I don't remember his real name. I don't really care what his real name is. Did he ever tell me? How long have I been here? I

No one bothers me in these rooms objects, vague outlines in dim light sagging like old men, indifferent in deference to the spreading stain on the floor there's no strength for weeping and my soul suffers all that is my heart pours such bright colors such extraordinary pain painted in hazel gray no one can see these things there is no great need for what I have to say when it rains, the sun is often forgotten just some dream that passed our way I hold my hand out reaching for something anything my fingers meet only air another occurence of thinking someone might be there deluded in my visions no one visits me in these ro