Watch Out

So many bad decisions are carved out of tedium. None of them are tipped with any sort of real utility. Yet a spectatorship that is equally aimless grants breath to lungs that should have collapsed long ago. My only saving grace is a depletion of special talents. I don't possess the fractal attention to spin plates or the dexterity to juggle. It's a dangerous thing to get used to things. No sooner does a man find himself on an open road is he pied-pipered by the lure of absurdity. He will swallow flames, escape chains in a tank full of water, and subject himself voluntarily to untold agonies. Far be it from me to claim immunity. I too have been put to a blindfold awaiting the hand picked consequences of chuckling cohorts for no other reason than supper took an eternity to be prepared. I only have one trick that serves me well. It is something that must be budgeted carefully lest I waste my shot at being reputable. The gift is an ability to stare at something long enough for it come to life. Wisdom has rerouted my travel around the street that goes by petrified gargoyles. I am a wild pheasant for the masters of fiction. Without stealth, every stripe of revolutionary would force me study their manifesto like sheet music. Face all mirrors to the floor unless you want me to deal with me twice. And do not think to make me cultured. Art galleries have sneered the hire of gardeners because I made no promise to avoid John Constable's collection. I can be won over in the dark where dream careers and every other presentation of miscellaneous desire is blotted out. Simply press your back against mine and settle for the communion of heats.