Mack "3rd Eye" Blinderson has
or had a certain cocksure insight.
For each thing he saw
to penetrative depths,
He saw another thing
to dizzying heights,
which, afraid of them,
he'd hyperobscure, project,
redirect, overcompensate more
or less by degrees than he thought
called for. He posed it as an act, but
it's so much more or less than that.
For instance, Mack wore a black
t-shirt with a candid shot of an
unsolicited dick pic - not his!
Just the pick of the batch that
he'd unsolicited, but nevertheless
got. Ridiculous: Mack was straight.
White. Who was he kidding, putting on
this black t-shirt! The contrast was absurd,
but apparently fit just right. Mack was
always
pulling such
gay tricks. It seemed
the solicited thing to do. To him.
It's not nor was, nor ever should be,
but a dude like that can't always see
clear or true ways out or through like
me and you can, do, know-how all-wise.
Poor Mack
was a hapless dork those ways. It's why
people cut him a break in the back
with his own damn selfsame
namesake knife. Metaphorically,
of course. Surprise?
No not really. Not to Ol' Mack "3rd Eye"
Blinderson. He's rich in surprise curiosity,
and curiously poor in reasons why. He calls
disappointments epiphanies, and poses as if
because it's fun, and acts like his whole façade's
not him. But it obviously is. It's the best thing
he had to put on.
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