{an old friend once wrote prose... i hope he still does...
   this ancient piece (bbs days, baby) deserves recognition}
cycles, by tommy b.

Cycles: mine i removed a crumpled smoke from my pack and lit it near my face i sat in my chair and flipped a switch lights flickered on. Snaps clicks and all sorts a shit my terminal connected my eyes brighten with the sound of the carrier i login my fingers fly my mind flickers for what seems an endless moment. Wars death music, cars, all sorts of topics fill my head and are refresshed each day. The buzz comes on, louder than the fan my mind shifts gears and juice is imagined i hit a note a single chord my mind flips and i'm out the door , /g or whatever it may be laying on my bed thoughts of that girl running thru my head i drift to sleep then suddenly break its teasing grasp i click on again into a different place a different section of my cyberspace. i'm human or so it goes i have my obessions and along with woman computers are one of those not a competition not even a match i would take flesh and blood before this hunk of scrap. but instead my souless eyes reflect not love but phosure burn instead the yellowish tinges my face and then the touch of the keyboard takes me from this place off again maybe this time i won't. be back, but i'd certainly prefer a woman to this hunk of scrap so i leave once again riding in yellow i fucking hate my life and really wish i was less mellow. stepping into a hole stepping outa my awake i just sit alone waiting thoughts of that girl running thru my head you staring at me, me wish i was dead a dream like hazy sleep slips over me then the cycle begins again monotonus at best. i prefer a woman to this hunk of scrap but since i can't have one i'll take the other and hope that things change or that i can live with my mother. farewell as i log off this eternal trip is at an end my days are done and you, would you like to see a flick tonight my friend? Tommy B.