I talk to the mental health cowboy swinging down the alley without his hat or gun, he asks me about the voices, there’s sawdust on the ground and my head’s in a vice, I tell him I drink too much, the city beehive of apartment blocks is around us. Like me he probably gets real lonely, looking for a little honey to sweeten his life. He asks me what I think of psychiatrists or the white lies of the government. We’re heading into Victoria Gardens shopping centre where they buzz around us like flies around dog shit. It’s just another day of madness in the city, wake up and smell the psychosis.
madness in the city
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