telling stories is telling lies (first lie)

the truth of a true story

X was walking down the street in neighborhood ( ). In front of him there was a homeless junkie. As he approached the 20 something , looking like 40 something homeless junkie he noticed that passers by where passing by. His glance turned slow motion and zoomed in to notice the shoes of the men and women as they stepped over the legs of the man sprawled out on the sidewalk. Mind click for X: a choreography of dis_interest.
As X approached the flesh sprawled out on cement X began to move his hand into his pocket to stir the lining, to search for loose change and loose was the chhange that he found as he started to bend down towards the cement. As X dropped the metal market tools into the hat of the sprawled out man, X talked. The words X spoke where not rehearsed, they where spontaneous and colored by the various parts of his mind set and his socio-economic geneology: the liberal familly tree.
X said this: this is for you to but something, a thing , anything, something that you might want to eat
And the sprawled flesh began to move and shape and shift and turn and heave with a difficulty in his actions and motions and so did his mouth also join the coming out of stagnation that the rest of his body also suffered from.
but the mouth did open and the words did drop out, somewhere between the cement and X
these words where: fuck off
fuck the fuck off and if you wanna give me whatever you wanna give me then what you givew me is mine and if it is mine then i can do whatever i want to do with this since it is mine and if it is not mine then dont fuckin give it to me
so
fuck off