Monthly Archives: August 2015

MONKEY STINK (i hate but am fascinated by the new body. it makes me laugh)

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MONKEY STINK (i hate but am fascinated by the new body. it makes me laugh)

 

 

 
I was born in 1976. That was about the time Mick Jagger was sucking off David Bowie. Poor Angie was stuck in the corner watching and fiddling with her bits. It is all in the blood. None of this means anything except telling you my age. It means something to me though. I could tell you how I got here but that is for another day. I was born cold enough. My will to live only just exceeds my will to die

 

 

 

 

I finished drying myself with a towel. My left hand felt sticky so I opened the palm and saw it was covered with blood. I looked on my chest and asked myself, where the fuck is the blood coming from? I checked my whole body but couldn’t find the source. I fucked around for a good fifteen minutes trying to look at the bottoms of my feet in the mirror. My hand went down and checked my arsehole a couple of times to make sure that my haemorrhoids weren’t bleeding. Oh well, fuck it, I couldn’t find the source. I started getting dressed. The final part of the process involves strapping the orthotic’s on my feet. I found the source. The scab from the scratch half way up the outside of my left calf had bled. I must have removed the scab when I was rubbing my legs dry. No feeling

I got dressed then had to go to the post office so I left. I’d only pushed one hundred metres from my front door when I saw the postie. Did you get the ticket, she asked? I turned to face her and I fell out of my wheelchair. I hit he pavement. I haven’t fallen out of it for the longest time. There was a branch lying on the footpath. The postie and a strange lady walking by helped me back into it. They both fawned over me asking if I was okay? I told them I was fine. That was a lie. I am so sick of everything. I got home and stifled the tears… no sorry that’s also a lie. The tears came but I managed to control them. It seems like it’s the only control I have in my life

It’s best to keep your darker tendencies to yourself. I told a friend how I was feeling and she told me to call her whenever I felt that way. It was such a sweet thing to say but I will never call her. It is best enjoyed alone. Since becoming disabled I feel like it’s the only control I have is my life. Thinking about death. I am at the mercy of poltroons and suckerfish. The only pleasure I get is when I’m drunk. The trouble is when I sober up everything is the same. My life is full of appointments and she never picks me up. I shuffle from home to there and back again. I can see no end of my medical problems. They are only getting worse as I care less. I had to ring for a ride to the doctors so I picked up my phone. The car dropped me there and I tried to hear. Halfway through my appointment the right tyre on my wheelchair popped. Too many Mars bars

I rang the company to fix my tyre. They told me they would call back. I had to wait for a ride home from the quacks. It finally came and dropped me back. Nothing happened at the appointment except for him getting paid. The driver couldn’t speak English but he could drive. That was all I needed. As the car dropped me in my driveway I got out. It is a very slow procedure pushing a wheelchair with one tyre. I shifted my weight and saw this thing moving towards me. It looked huge and moved slowly. The driver tooted as he left and I waved. As it neared I saw it was a woman pushing a shopping trolley. She looked right into my eyes. She was wearing seventeen layers of clothes and her hair was matted. All of her possessions filled the cart… I mean the cart contained everything that she owned. I looked at her face and she was beautiful but covered in dirt. I used to think that seeing a homeless man carrying all of his possessions was the saddest sight in the world. I have changed my mind. I looked at her face and saw that she could be a model. I wondered what had happened to her so I approached and asked her? Well, she said as she looked down at my wheelchair, what happened to you? Fair enough, I said and headed to my door

I got inside for a piss then started rolling a fag. I got out on to the balcony and saw the beautiful homeless woman was still standing outside. She was running her right hand over her greasy hair thoughtfully. I will never know what she is thinking. She was standing directly in front of my apartment. She looked up at me and I blushed. She still knew she had it

I rang the company to find out where the man to fix the wheel on my ‘chair was? Three hours later the doorbell rang. I opened the door and a monkey wearing a satchel brushed past me. It ran around the house and climbed on top of my fridge. It picked its nose and rubbed the monkey snot between its fingers while looking at it. It jumped down in front of my chair and picked a tool out of its bag. It didn’t know what it was doing. I transferred on to my couch and sat and watched it hitting the chair with a spanner. It kept stopping, rubbing its arse and sniffing its fingers. I rang the company and asked them if the monkey knew what it was doing? The lady said, most of the time, and hung up on me. I rang the number again. Another lady answered the phone. Hello, she said? Hello, I replied, I’m calling to complain about a monkey that you sent me. Did it bite you, she asked. No, I said it’s destroying my wheelchair. Ok here’s what you do, she said, there is a little amulet on the necklace of the monkey, can you see it? Yes, I said as I found it. Good. It’s a vial of poison to kill this fucking thing. Open the amulet, she said, but be careful; the monkey bites. It’s not biting me, I replied, its rubbing its arsehole and smelling its finger. It does that too, she said. I hung up and slowly opened the amulet. There was a piece of paper folded up within. I unfolded it and a folded twenty-dollar note fell out. I bent down and watched the monkey watching me. I picked it up off the ground and opened it. The note read, here’s a twenty. Do it yourself dickhead

 

 

*   *

 

 

 
Andrew Stuart Buchanan

SENSATION

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SENSATION

 

 
A friend called me and told me that they wish that they didn’t feel anything. I told them that they were wrong for thinking that way. When I was first admitted they made me take anti-depressants. I fell out of my wheelchair and broke my hip and it just happened. I didn’t feel angry or sad, it just happened. Now I don’t feel anything but frustration. I am stuck within the wheel and it is making me angry and facetious

 

 

 
I was waiting on the street for a ride. I leaned forward in my wheelchair and did a loud fart. The fart sounded wonderful but scared me ‘cause I couldn’t feel it coming. A woman walked past. I sat up straight and did another long whining fart. It must have lasted three seconds. She looked down and laughed. I took that as a good sign, in my mind, as I cringed. She had a soft delicate laugh. It reminded me of innocence and petunias. There is no need to fear a woman who laughs at farts

I got to the hospital. The car dropped me at the gate and I entered the foyer. I pulled out the piece of paper and asked the lady at reception how and she gave me directions. She said the directions and I wondered at how I would get there? You’re in the wrong building, she’d said. She’d started telling me how I would get there. I stopped her halfway and said, sorry. I told her that I’ve had a brain injury so she may as well be talking Swahili. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind drawing a diagram to show me how to get there. She got up from behind the desk and told me she would take me. She walked with me for just over a minute. She walked me across the hospital to the Private section and led me to the lifts. I made the sort of small talk you must make when you are in somebody’s debt as we ascended. She took me up to the door where I asked her name? She told me but I will never remember

You would be fucked if you were sick and a racist in Australia. Most of the nurses and orderlies were from Asia. A white nurse led me to a cubicle and told me to take my singlet and tracksuit pants off. She asked if I could do it myself and I said yes. She tossed a white blanket on the bed. I took them off and lay with the blanket over me. She was gone for just long enough for me to start to get annoyed. After pulling the blind and the blanket off the first thing she did was place large splodges of clear gel on both ankles, on the inside of my wrists and halfway up the insides of my thighs. Then she got a silver pen wired to a machine and placed it on the gel and listened. It was loud. I could hear it too. The noise sounded familiar. I know I’ve had this test before but I mean it sounded familiar familiar. It reminded me of a Doctor Who episode

The technician had apologised for the cold of the gel. I’m sick of reality so I said, yesss it was cold. She started to say something but stopped as she placed the pen on the inside of my thigh. Her left hand brushed my penis. Mmmm. What, I asked? It’s very nice, she said as she smiled. You should see it when it’s not in a hospital, I replied. My husband, she said, is a forward gunner in the military… …….So what’s wrong with me, I asked. I dunno, she said, as she placed the pen up my nose. You’re pulse is good. Then how come my feet look dead, I said, and why are they always bleeding and covered in pressure sores? I don’t know, she said as she started running the pen back down my abdomen. She got firmer with the pen against me. I looked down and saw she had my balls in her hand. I could hear my pulse get quicker. She was still moving that pen up and down. As my dick started getting bigger the noise on the monitor became garage drum ‘n bass. There’s nothing wrong with the circulation, she said. Well how come I keep bleeding, I asked? I dunno, she said, maybe you’ve got your period? Alice Cooper, I replied, said only women bleed. He has a woman’s name, she replied. So what are you saying, I asked, I’m a woman with a man’s name? I don’t think so, she said, you’ve got those big hairy balls between your legs. We stared at each other silently for too long so she left

I got dressed and waited at the front desk for my discharge summary and a referral to see a surgeon. I saw a woman pushing a stand with a bag above and a cannula in her coming towards me. She was walking down the corridor wearing a short lemon nightie and an opened short white bathrobe. As she got closer I saw she would have been in her forties. She had held together well with nice breasts. I knew she was coming up to talk to me as soon as I had seen her eyes. She looked nuts but not nuts enough to be mistaken for crazy. She was crazy. It has always been the crazy ones. She stood right in front of me and asked, did you know that the aliens have already landed? I shook my head. Yeah, she said, they landed in Sydney and nobody noticed. They’ve been going around sticking their long thin green dicks into females out in Kings Cross after midnight. That’s probably why you haven’t heard about it. How do you know, I asked? I’m one of them, she said

I had to get away from her. She thought she had been fucked by an alien. There are different types of crazy and hers was making me sad. It would be easy for any one of us to fixate on one thing. But we don’t. I asked a woman walking past with a bunch of flowers where the lifts were. She turned and pointed so I headed towards them. I found the ground button and pushed it. The lift was somewhere above me. I looked down at the trashcan as I waited. I saw her coming towards me from my periphery. It is always a crazy woman. I’ve fucked crazy women and I’ve fucked sane. Sane always beats crazy. Crazy is only cute while you’re fucking them. I heard her say, you probably haven’t heard about it! She said, it’s probably ‘cause you’re a bloke. And even if you had heard about it who is going to believe a drunken woman’s story about being fucked late on a Saturday night by an alien with a long thin green dick?

She kept blabbering and I became silent. I cannot take another’s madness. It’s already full at the inn. The lift eventually came as I pretended I couldn’t hear her. She knew I was pretending to not hear her and desisted. I only wish one day would feel normal. On the way out a woman in a white jacket smiled at me. I asked her if she would like to come outside and have a cigarette? No, she said, I’m an oncologist. What, I said, does that come after Aquarius? No, she said, that means that I’m a doctor that specialises in cancer. Cancer, I asked, I thought that came after Aquarius? No, she said, I specialise in cancer the disease not Cancer the star-sign. Does that mean you don’t want one, I asked? No, she said. Fair enough, I replied, do you mind if I have one? Whatever, she said, it’s your funeral. A car pulled up in front of us and i watched her get in. She looked at me and smiled as the car pulled away. I lit the cigarette and i smiled

 

 

 
Andrew Stuart Buchanan

COUGAR ATTACKS MAN

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COUGAR ATTACKS MAN

 

 

 

(I’d heard from a mate that one of my friends in New Zealand was worried about me from reading my stories. I text him saying, you don’t have to worry about me by what I am writing. Worry about me when I’m not writing. I told him the conceit of this story and he asked how I got the inspiration? I text back that I’ve been pretty much bed-ridden so I have taken things (funny things) that have happened to me and let my creative juices do the rest. I saw a man I know walk past as I went outside and checked my mail. He asked how my writing was going. I said, great but nobody seems to understand or like it… not that it bothers me. My memory doesn’t work so well but I remembered he had already compared my writing to his work as a landscape gardener. He told me, I always have to do what the owner wants and not the proper way of doing things. My eye’s raised. I am the owner so I can tickle myself how I like. I don’t care. This is not written intended for an audience. It is all in the mind

Fuck it. I don’t know why I act the way I do. Chivalry will be dead soon anyway. Not many men do chivalrous deeds these days. I am one of them and look where it got me, locked in a woman’s broom closet. I was helping a lady by carrying a, not heavy but large, box on my knees. She was struggling. She told me that she’d push as she placed the box on my lap. I couldn’t see for the box as she pushed my wheelchair up the street. I didn’t know where I was going. She kept pushing me as she walked and walked. I asked her to slow down but she wouldn’t. I couldn’t see where we were going so I leaned right back and held on with one hand to the horizontal of the frame to not fall out

It had been a day of quiet reflection up until I met her. I’d been thinking about God chance and coincidence. Everyone has an opinion but they are all wrong. The things that happen around us happen around us. The truth is the hardest thing to swallow. I haven’t had sex for so long. I think it’s because I hate myself. The sexual has died. I’ve watched enough ‘pop’ tv to know that I will have to love myself before anybody else will love me. That’s easier to say than do. I had pushed my wheelchair thinking and thinking when I saw her struggling

I saw the woman I ratted out earlier. She told me to come to her church and they would heal me. Fuck it…. not again. I don’t like that sort of thing so I told her boss. To me it seems condescending, like they believe they are above me and I am disabled because I don’t believe. I saw her coming up the street towards me so I said hi. She froze when she saw me then continued on without saying hello back. I was insulted until I remembered. She wanted me for their cause and it made me angry enough to be a ‘stool’. Just take your God and fuck off (although she didn’t lock me in her broom closet)

We got to her house and she let me in. She told me to make myself comfortable so I transferred on to her couch. She reached down to a drawer on her dresser and pulled out a box of Cavajet and a small brown bottle. Some of you disabled guys have trouble or come too quickly, she said. Have you done this before, I asked? Baby, she said, this is all I do, as she walked behind me. She asked me to put my hands behind my back so I did. She put a loop of plastic around my wrists and said, there. I felt the plastic tightening. What the fuck, I asked? She walked around the front of me and said, hopefully. Her phone rang so she went and answered it. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but she was nodding and smiling a lot

She asked me if I wanted a drink and I said yes. She poured it out of a tiny brown bottle into a glass that she held up to my lips. I smelled it and it smelt like aniseed. I tossed my head back and she followed with the glass. It burned my throat and it tasted like aniseed. Aniseed aniseed aniseed. Everything was aniseed. The flushing started in my cheeks and then went all the way through me. Are you okay, she asked as I kind of swayed? Aniseed aniseed, I said. Everything was aniseed. I finally woke out of it to find I was in a different room. It felt like I was upstairs somewhere. The light was too bright. When my eyes finally adjusted to the light I saw that I was surrounded by a group of naked women. One of them was squeezing a tube of KY into her vagina. I can never really get wet, she said, when I have to do this to have sex. It just doesn’t make me horny. She kind of half-smiled as she handed the tube to the lady standing next to her and said, I do wanna fuck though

I dozed to sleep until a hand/face slapped my right cheek. Hey!! I couldn’t see the lady standing to my left but heard her say, hey have you guys noticed that quite a few of them black out like that? An Italian woman with a big nose and dyed blonde hair leaned down and looked into my face and said, yeah… it’s like they can’t believe what is happening and black out from the brain fuck. There were too many breasts in my face and it kept blacking me out. The next time I woke I managed to extend my right arm and my palm before a gigantic black boob swept over my face. I blacked out again. The next time I woke they had all backed off a bit. It gave me time to wake

I was standing against a mattress. I couldn’t believe I was standing without hanging on to anything. I looked down and saw I had been strapped restrained to the bed. The bed made a sound and slowly started declining to horizontal. I felt something on my chest and saw that there was some red liquid slowly sliding. I looked down and there was a black noose tied around my penis. It was tied so tight that it looked big and dangerous. All of the veins were protruding. I couldn’t really feel him but it still felt good. A little short woman stepped forwards and said, see I knew he had a big one. She reached out and slapped it and we both watched it sway. My breath smelt metallic and I blacked out again. When I woke there was a beautiful English rose riding me ferociously. He’s awake, the one sitting on my right arm shouted. A small brown bottle appeared under my nose. I breathed through my mouth until a hand from my left and right covered it. As I started breathing through my nose a wave coursed through me. I was watching a lady riding me but I could not believe it. I sniffed and my head shot forward onto the bottle. I snorted some of the liquid then coughed. The fire took my brain

I woke up and saw my mid-section was covered in sperm. The ladies were all standing with their heads bowed in a circle with their backs to me. There was a tall woman standing in the centre of the circle. She was staring right at me. We are women, she said. We are sick and tired of you guys walking around with your dicks just waiting to fuck us. That is not what we want. We want to fuck you and this is one of the only ways we can… we must first switch off your mind…

I woke pushing my wheelchair up a hill. I had to stop. I had two flat tyres. How the fuck did that happen? I stopped and looked back up to see road somebody had smashed a bottle of Heineken on the footpath up the road. I said the word prick under my breath. I’ve pushed my way home on one flat tyre before but I know that it won’t work on two. I was scratching my head wondering what to do when a woman pulled up beside me in her car and asked if I wanted a ride? I said yes please. She opened her door and walked up to me. She introduced herself and asked how to dismantle my chair? I transferred to the passenger seat and showed her how. There was a newspaper open on the floor of the car to a page that reads: COUGAR ATTACKS MAN. I looked in the glove box and found a pen. I picked up the paper and added it myself

’S

She drove for such a long time that I knew she wasn’t taking me to Bondi. She eventually pulled off a main road and into a little cul-de-sac. As the car slowed to turn into a driveway she said, I need you to help me clean out my broom closet. I said okay

 

 

Andrew Stuart Buchanan)

THRUSH

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THRUSH

 

 

 

The stress is starting to manifest physically. I haven’t left the house all week. I’ve got a cold, my face is covered with pimples and my feet look like a corpse’s. By that I mean they are black and look dead. My mind is blacker and is just as dead. My body does not like being disabled and has been dieing in spots all over me. I just keep smoking fags and drinking to help me not notice. Neither actually helps but to me it does. All a human needs is distraction. We only need to take our minds off of what is happening. We are all dieing a little each day. Take me to the sun and let it burn

I shake off the shackles and open the front door. I am wearing a singlet and tracksuit pants. The sun is shining but it’s still cold. My lungs are wheezing and it sounds like I have emphysema but I am addicted so I have to get more. I had three different people stop and want to talk on the way to the tobacconist. They could not tell that I am at war. It made them inquisitive seeing me do what I have to do each day. One was a lady who gave me a handshake like a bloke’s. She then asked me questions that I am too dumb to not answer honestly. She kept asking me if I wasn’t cold? I said, no I’m from New Zealand

I stopped in at the tobacconist. I can’t get my wheelchair into the store so I just cough and beckon and his wife comes out to serve me. She is from Japan so would have a hairy one. She passed it over to me and then said goodbye to her husband and stepped down on to the footpath. I always forget so I asked her how much it was? She curled her finger inwards before she walked away from me. She started to half-skip down the road. I sat there with seventy dollars in my hand. Did she want me to follow her? I was watching her arse wobbling when she turned around, stopped, and beckoned with her whole hand. I hurried after her and finally caught up. I only married him, she said, for a visa. He can’t get it up and he beats me. I’m sorry, I said. What for, she asked, for beating me or for having a soft cock? No, I said, you gave me the wrong tobacco. I gave it too you for free, she said. It is still the wrong kind, I replied. Are you not sorry that he beats me, she questioned? No, I said, I’m sorry that I don’t beat you, as I smiled. She handed me a piece of paper and told me to write down my address. She pulled up her top. She wasn’t wearing a bra and had saggy ones. She started squeezing her right nipple and gasping. You, she asked? Maybe later, I said, off the street. I saw two fist sized bruises on her abdomen. She saw me looking at them and pushed her index finger on one of them then winced then giggled

I got home with the tobacco burning a hole in my pocket. I saw Death walking towards me with Yoko walking behind. He saw me and smiled. He said, watch out Andy there is a lot of corruption, as Yoko silently shuffled him towards the door. I feel better being dumb. Being dumb makes you brave. I am not afraid of anyone. She walks behind him but leads the procession with one hand folded over the other. I see too much. He cannot see that he has been corrupted. All she wants is money and all he wants is her pussy. She is younger than him and it makes me think of what a woman will endure for rent. He treats me like the black sheep while she treats him like a master to his face

The intercom buzzed so I went over to it. I looked in the monitor and saw it was the Japanese woman. I pushed the button and watched her stand there. Open the door, I said at the screen. She just stood there until the monitor went black. Stupid bitch, I said under my breath. The buzzer sounded again so I held the button down longer and watched ‘til she looked surprised hearing it. She opened the door and entered. She walked in my door with a bag over her shoulder. She placed it on the ground, pulled out a tripod and a video camera. I tape these, she said as she extended the legs, and then I make my husband watch them. That’s a bit cruel, I said. No, she replied as she placed the camcorder on the stand, that’s the only time that he gets it up. She placed her hand under the bottom of the base and heard a click; it was locked in. She placed her keys on the television stand and I saw she had a One-Direction key ring. Have you had a shower, I asked? No, she replied. Well you better, I said. She walked into the bathroom while I went to the kitchen sink. I got back to the bathroom and heard her singing a U2 song. I put a hand into the shower cubicle handing her a bottle of methylated spirits and a Goldilocks. What’s this for, she asked? The metho’ is for you to douche with and the Goldilocks is to scrub the outside of your pussy. Okay, she said, then kept singing. I heard her sing three different songs and then she came back out fully dressed. I muttered under my breath, what the fuck’s going on? Houdini died because he wasn’t ready. I wondered if I was

Now that I had her I didn’t want another crazy woman. She stepped out of her dress and was naked. No undies-yes. Her pussy was hairy, but it wasn’t curly like a white person’s it was long black and fine and it smelt like the bottom of the prover in a bakery I used to work in. Like simmering yeast. She bent down and ran her opened right hand down the inside of her right leg and then back up again. She stopped with her palm next to her bush and grunted by question. I looked up and saw she was smiling and nodding. It’s very nice, I said. She was beautiful besides the bruises. Why didn’t I want her? What am I looking for, a third tit, a vagina I can back crawl back inside? What’s wrong with crazy? I guess it’s just because I have been spoiled by choice. I like women and women used to like me. I bent down and licked it. It felt like I had a mouth full of sherbet

I am surrounded by the East and am still mystified. I watch If You Are The One and I now know less. It’s hard enough to know what a white woman wants. She asked me if I believed in God? I looked up and saw that she still had the Goldilocks in her hand. I do normally but tonight I don’t, I said. What do you believe in, she asked? I don’t believe in anything, I said. I’m just waiting for Bono to put on his cape and save us. Angelina Jolie and Bono are still trying to save us from ourselves and failing. Nobody knows how to fix humanity properly but the Iranians are trying to build the bomb. You know, she said, that it is a sin to worship a false idol? Sure, I replied, but what about your One Direction key-ring?

 

 

 
Andrew Stuart Buchanan

HAIRY CARROTS

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HAIRY CARROTS

 

 

 

 

She told me that she loved me so I nibbled on the bait. It seems like it was months ago. My memory doesn’t work so it could have even been years ago, who knows? Maybe it didn’t happen at all… No, it did happen. That was when I fell again. I rolled my sleeve up. I’d cut the date on my arm with a Stanley-knife so I do know that it happened. I can show you the first scars. I opened the door to my heart and showed her what was inside. She giggled like a young girl when she saw. I found it endearing. I found out soon after that she didn’t love me. She has been conditioned by her experiences. Telling a man that you love him just gets you what you want. I’ve been cutting myself everyday as soon as I had realised

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I’m not certain but I am pretty sure that a woman cannot feel love. They might convince themselves that they do but I think that they mistake convenience and lust for love. A woman looks for stability while a man’s heart bleeds. A woman complains her whole life ‘til she marries; then she knows she herself is to blame. A woman was walking past with her husband. She kept looking back and telling him off loudly as he walked a pace and a half behind her. He looked embarrassed and was rubbing his wedding ring. I nodded my eyes up at his and I watched his close
 
 

Someone I know told me the meaning of life is to procreate. They are only half-right. The meaning of life is to love. Monogamy only means something to one person. I can only talk like this because I am a man and nobody loves me. A man walks convinced that one day he will have the ultimate sex while a woman wonders what she will do next. Chance is a fine thing when you can find it. Since becoming disabled I have noticed more and I now know less. It is easy to see the hate in love from afar. Inside of love you cannot see anything

 
 
 
I’ve had the -****** for over six months now and my life is no better. That’s probably because I haven’t used it yet. I am still waiting to unlock my foods true potential. It is out of its box but the cyclonic action is still latent. It just sits lonely next to my blender. Maybe that’s why my life is so hard? I open the fridge door and I see a box of strawberries on the shelf starting to go mouldy. I wanted to watch something turn. I open the fruit and veg cabinet and pull out an apple. I squeeze the skin and find it has soft parts. There were only hairy carrots in the fridge. I’ll be fucked if I’m going to have a hairy carrot drink so I closed the fridge. I went to the cupboard and there were only dry goods. At least there is vodka.

 
 
 
 
I woke up with a dry mouth. There was a piece of paper on top of the computer so I started writing this down………………………………………………………………………………………….…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. …………………………………………………………………………………………..………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..I have actually been dead for the last fifteen years. They just keep sending electricity through my veins to keep me alive. I only survive on impulse. That is why I can’t feel her love. That is why I feel nothing. The rabbit ate the fox and we both laughed

 

 

 

 

 

Andrew Stuart Buchanan