the song of San francisco

The bullet entered his right temple before the chorus of the song, his brains blown all over the street before he was even able to process the familiar melody he once loved. No time to enjoy one of his favorite anthems, the bullet entering his skull almost exactly as the lyrics started: "Baby, I'm going to change your world...." the singer started off. The driver shook his head and turned the volume up. *** He inhaled deeply, handed me the pipe, and blew out a great cloud of poisons and toxin. It was my turn, I had become a little human shaped factory, puffing pollutants into the air from inside my lungs. This methamphetamine was chemically rich and full of poison never meant to be smoked by a human being. We heard the gunshots outside our tenderloin SRO room that cost us about 800 bucks a month for a little coffin of a place with a tiny bed. We smoked to make sure we didn't sleep. And to provide our own increasingly paranoid thoughts, a new terrible urgency to be spoken with. A machine gun spattering of words that would flow in an endless barrage of non-sequiters and misguided beliefs often conspiratorial in nature. Ultimately, it would be a shared report of the constant pit of useless babble that