Bollocks, Broken Brain

Have you ever stalled out your thinking parts before?  Like, you've had so many thoughts stimulate your brain stem simultaneously that it stopped?  Ceased?  Succumbed to a frightening silence so loud and awful it made your ears bleed?  All.  Of.  The.  Time.  I took my recycling out the other day and I stumbled upon a couple more destitute than I.  Hard to imagine, I know.  I offered my defeated liquor bottles, having previously vanquished their innards.  They weren't remotely organized...such is existence.  I felt guilty, my mishmash of drunken folly.  The woman of the two humbly and rather graciously accepted my meager offering and took the liberty to pilfer my pitiful wares.  The man part remained yonder while I watched her take the goods.  I tried to make small talk about recycling but it felt so fucking false in the midst of her struggling to meet ends.  Perhaps she was merely using my kicks to afford her own.  They were white, so probably the case.  Caucasians love them some hooch.  As I awkwardly left the situation, she thanked me so honestly it made my heart hurt...after all, I didn't dump my junk in with the rest of the shit for them to sift through.  Yeah, I'm a real fucking saint.

On my travel back to my cozy apartment with bills paid and grub in the icebox, I noticed they had not enough garbage bag room for my vacant treasures.  I remarked and she said, 'We'll make do.'  Of course you will.  Look at you.  Twice my age with a man as useless as any, picking through a students(they don't know the difference) plastics to survive for the day.  Immediately my brain lit with fired contemplation:  I should take them in and make them some food.  Bet I have some clothes that'll fit her.  Fuck him.  Though stoic, what kind of a man allows his woman to do all the work in this homeless fucking charade?  Oh yeah...ALL OF THEM.  hahhahahahhahah.....ha.  Or maybe her torrid drug addiction has ruined them both and here they stand in love and loss to make a few pennies and get fucked.  Maybe they're not homeless and when I turn my back I'll get a nice garbage molded shiv in my back side.  Well, they're bags are clearly bursting and I have a whole box of em in the homey home.  I should grab them.  What if they get offended?  What if charity from someone such as myself, however homeless looking I may be, insults them?  I don't want to hurt their already shitty day.  Nobody thinks that lifestyle is ideal...even if you've never known any different.  Maybe they're wealthy stock owners who pick bottles to save the earth.  Maybe they'll use the bags I donate to suffocate baby ducks and then do a bunch of meth.  Then I'll be responsible for so much destruction and unhappiness...and baby duck carcasses.  Though I'm sure the bastards would then throw the bodies into the pond where their parents reside to witness the carnage and pain while doing it doggie-style on the gosling feathers that fell during the throttling.  What if I grab them the box of bags and they follow me home, take everything I own and leave me for dead after doing it doggie-style atop pictures of my family?

What if they really appreciate the help, however minuscule?

I feel guilty that all i can give is a box o bags.  Maybe i should donate them anonymously?  Like put them on top of the recycling units and scurry away into the day.  Getting credit for being nice is the antithesis of why someone should be kind.  What if they don't see them and they go to waste?  Then I've just littered like a pound of plastic into an already plastic rife wasteland.  Fuck it.  I'll put the box on something visible in their line of travel and hope they dig it.  These thoughts all occurred in the thirty seconds it took me to grab the roll of bags and ditch them on a garbage bin down the alley.  I.  Freak.  Who knew being sort of selfless was so gd exhausting.  Don't know if they got em either...