Book II: Revival and Recidivism
I take the long way home after being at the hospital, my daughter dead.
I take Carnivore Boulevard because of the stubby homeless guy who spits incessantly and begs for change. There’s the butcher shop with what looks like a split-open dog in the window. A man stumbles down the street in a tuxedo, drunk in the morning. There are only a few shitty cars, some shitty people, and this old woman who prays at a doorstep on her knees. I turn off Carnivore Boulevard and get on Sentient Way. The people there are nicer, the buildings more architecturally sound and the litter is less noticeable. ‘There’s a chicken farm you f****d at once,’ I think. A massive p***s enters my mind, detached from its owner, and earlobes, too, and a mummy with big boobs and mosquitoes th
