Daniel’s Feu Follet Facebook
He toyed with the gun weight of the pen and suicide.
Behind him hanging on
a kitchen wall, a Jewish Health Care worker and his Apostles on the face of a
kitchen clock in The Last Supper made him feel like time froze to tattoo on
paper an eternal second in life across the river to Riker’s Island Prison.
Every night, rows Death.
The ashes of people drifted miles to a poor little town on
9/11, his girlfriend’s birth date.
The unreported remains of the day became part of Happy Land.
He looked out the window to the funeral parlor in The South
Bronx of America. Maybe tomorrow he’ll kill himself over loss of love like
Carlos Casagemas did in Paris in 1901.
His death inspired
The Blue Period of his best friend, Pablo Picasso, who had strange dreams and
nightmares like Daniel who heard voices exorcised by Win98 in 2015
Tell me about your childhood, a psychiatrist said from a
movie he recalled vaguely.
He carried Anne Frank
in his arms while the shadows of burnt-out buildings fell over them. She was
given to him to keep by his 4th grade English teacher, Mr. Marks, in
a time of swastikas stitched on Puerto Ricans in a gang called The Savage
Skulls or SS for short.
The Brady Bunch song, sung like an anthem, beckon him to
join the rest of America where the wasteland called Television was the first
drug of choice in childhood.
He saw a dog pop a pill to fly to save his French poodle
girlfriend. Was it LSD?
Daniel popped Saint Joseph’s Orange Favored Aspirin For
Abused Children. He logically reasoned like Mister Spock that he would be
invulnerable like Superman to the horse whippings by his mother’s husband who
later thought he had drowned him in his bathtub.
With a view of the East River, Daniel took a deep breath and
jumped off a bridge and found Atlantis within himself.
He found sunken genius to share.
He wanted to be a super hero to save everyone but became a
bad guy with a conscience like the crucified thief who stole the heart of a
Good Jewish Lawyer. Daniel died and went to Google Heaven Think I’ll live a
little longer to stick it to the Really Bad Guys.
Human Misery is the mint of the so-called City Of Angels or
Hollywood.
Everybody happy
Jane!!! Stop This Crazy Media Thing by Danny Aponte of
Public School 161
An essay on Freedom of Speech to sing songs like a canary in
a coalmine
Copyrighted in The South Bronx of Graffiti from Here To
Eternity
LLAP
http://diaryofasouthbronxcerealkiller.blogspot.com
