Flea Market on Washington

I was pretty tired, but I heard teenagers didn't sleep so I kicked myself up. Streets are cold and I'm on the west side of Indy, there's this place open that has cheap soda drinks, I walk in and it smells like hookers, and my best friend, except everything smells like that so I ignore it. The lady has at least 3 ear piercings and her parents are probably holly rollers, everyone's parents are I guess. She's nice, in spite.

It's a warm cold, today I'm an ant so I like sugar, my family resembles ants, I don't think it's a coincidence, I think they share a common ancestor with the ant. The other side of my family looks like moldy potatoes, I don't think that's a coincidence either. I keep drinking but I walk out. There are flea markets everywhere, weird one's that look like they haven't changed since the 80's or 90's, squalid and scratchy. They have that thin wood with the holes all in it, vomit green tiles, metal racks. I imagine strange underage porn being exchanged here, somewhere in the back. Perhaps they sell tools here for that kind of thing. I see drills and saws and rope.

"Everyone sucks and they should all die." I said it out loud but there's only me and some grey haired black guy here and he couldn't hear me, I kinda wish I had a megaphone and I were on a mountain and people had the mental capacities of at least a 4 year old and the innocence too. I see a partition with a bunch of art and stuff, I try sorting through the stacks of paintings, which are kinda thick. Some flower vases, fruit still life, a dude's face, there's some M. C. Escher type stuff. I had started crying and I couldn't stop. There was some shit in those paintings, I can't... Jesus I was sobbing uncontrollably, I laid down on the floor, I was so fucking tired!

That black guy came over and asked if I was alright. I dreamed I met God and he was having an existential crisis.

"Yeah, oh yeah... sorry" I got up off the floor.

"Alright, just if you're sleepin' you need to go somewhere else."

I wiped the sleep away, "Yeah okay."

God didn't know who he was. Everywhere there's a subtle obedience we can't shake. I leave and walk through the city again. It feels like I've lived a million years, like I've forgotten everything and all that remains is vague nostalgia.