Junk Speak

Henry the huckster  — eyes wide open running a hundred miles a hour into the freak show, eyes wide open. 

He didn’t have anything to write about—a Hemingway or Hunter S. Thompson would off themselves now, but not Henry, he was a truly courageous.

Henry a stranger to success in art and life, no Hemingway, no Hunter S. Thompson, no reason to off himself—no reason to write.

Writing was habit for Henry, it was constitutional, not unlike washing yourself or eating, something done without much thought. 

Henry felt nothing inside, there were no itches to scratch, feeling thick through out, like  
a spinal tap was attached to his neck, downward, numb.  

A story, this story, as a mono-dimensional protestation. Base, shameful, tiring and not required. 

Henry watching William Burroughs on Youtube—the old Colonel was spot on, “Junk Speak”  truth sayer and dragon slayer—

‘You must learn to exist with no religion, no country, no allies. You must learn to live alone in silence.’

William Burroughs

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