How The Finger Went Mad: Knuckle 1

How The Finger Went Mad: Knuckle 1            

Every night The Finger

wakes up shaking

despite the fact

that ever since the thing

that happened


it’s been unable

to fucking



because sleep is a Beatlejuice House-shaped-cookie-jar

and that place from which The Finger’s recently escaped

is something angry, fueled by the fact

            that it’s been built specifically not to love you,

            tossing the cookie jar at the back of your skull

            and accidentally missing

over and over again

            by a goddamn fraction of an inch


The Finger remembers everything

from the  unintentional foreplay

to ‘go time’

to being completely submerged

inside the dark circular pocket

of vortex’d doom


and everything after that

until exit

was like being buried alive

without the comfort of coffins

and the terrible knowledge

that it’s not dirt

that surrounds you

in this ground hole

            It’s not dirt!


and this knowledge is sewn to electrons

which are sewn to the pure horror

            of reluctant knuckles

sewn to a pair of disheveled Levis

and then sold to a mad fabric store

where its paralyzed sanity spends the rest of its nights

hanging from old fabric racks


coughing up dust

           but not dust

Fuck! If only this shit could be……….

if only

it could be



The Finger pulls itself out of bed

and taps its way into the kitchen

seaking water

but instead of water it cuts

straight to the whiskey



The Finger’s cuticles weep

while the surrounding 4 other digits

mumbled shit like “Somebody’s being over-dramatic”



“We were there too” The Thumb splurts out

“and you don’t see us loosing our goddamn minds about it.”



“But you didn’t go inside!” The Finger screams

“You don’t know what it’s like in there!

There’s no electricity and walls can read minds

and it’s unnaturally warm because the furnace

burns human souls instead of  things

like coal or back issues of US magazine

or wood!”


The Thumb refuses to argue

and The Finger  has lost all attention spans

when it comes to The Thumb


because the nightmares have taken over

the asylum in his head where all these memories

of that one night sit in the game room

hiding their meds in the soft cheeks beside  tongues

and jerking off

to old VHS tapes of Judge Judy



The Finger spends the rest of the night

trying to drink the madhouse into forclosure

while listening to Taylor Swift Jake-Gyllenhaal-break-up songs


cursing the state of modern romance

and hating the bleak world for being such

an ass


(to be continued………..)


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