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Pony Payroll Bones Talkin Montgomery In Tha Rain
by Matthew PonY Bones Proctor



I do not recall how it began as the action of occurrences was the perpetual momentums before we were born.

We stopped suddenly upon the outskirts of Montgomery. Collapsed old Baptist church. was an old black church. Prolly a white one at first. We walked amongst tha shirt bird rain rot bibles.

Maybe I felt God Rollin in my heart. You could see the clear blue sky through the gigantic hole of de roof. timbers hanging down swaying in tha breeze like teeth gone wrong in de mouth.

We suddenly found ourselves in tha rain. We were standing in Montgomery in tha rain. Yes Montgomery in tha rain. That's a song you should go look up. We were accidentally livin that song that day and we did not know bout that song.

This is all about visiting Hank Williams grave. We were his dogs and he called us here through tha dark spiritual realm of this troubled times.

The marble was polished the shine of oblivion. Shakes your bones inside the meat.

Here I goes curdled in the past. Using a dead country singer to locate/relocate reality.

Lime green Astroturf made the surrounding TOMB MAUSELEUM LAWN. That dear bitch Audrey Williams was buried there too.

Sleeping pill nights at no name motels.--Amphetamine days and nights. We decided the day was the night and the real sunshine that makes you understand can ONLY be found at NIGHT!

Maybe I'm mixin this up with the trip to Andersonville, Ga. That POW CIVIL WAR CAMP. A lot of Yankees died there. You had lice racing games and made bets, like you were at the real race horse track. Gotta distract the hunger gnaw.

Was my friend tryin to fuck me. whilz we was high hallucinating high upon sleeping pills and stayed awake in no name motels?

Well Shackleton's background was all Irish catholic. He suffered an upbringing that guaranteed a scorned soul. Down the dusty Dixie road of years later, tha friend got real bad off. He just took his ritual to the Oxycontin got real bad off.

I liked the country gold Saturday night though. Hear that lonesome radio make ya feel good. Radio was about dead in 2002.

Good chances one's gonna get caught in the braying blinding rain. Not some kinda music or lifestyle. The kinetic actions slowly and slowly till you got a mouthful of cold clay and yer ghost busts through tha teeth outta tha black hole corpse mouth to haunt the intemperance world. All the choices shall run you down. Down into tha ghost ditch.