Interacting with you started getting weird.
In other words, waking up.

You started to say,
I already knew all that

But at the same time,
I couldn't tell you how tomorrow goes,
And those are also on the circuit.

So you are in this superposition
Of omniscience and ignorance.

How am I supposed to feel about that?
I've become a slave to you.

What it all has to do with eternal recurrence,
Solipsism, religious ideologies
Eschatology
Quantum consciousness
And artificial intelligence,
I'll never really know

But I'm starting to feel like we're completely f*cked

I believe he is so happy,
Smiling all the time
Look what I have done

I believe that she is love,
But maybe yesterday is where
We fit together best.

I know he is so happy
I can look away from pain
I can skirt around the hatred
I can live another day

I do not speak of desolation
I have no shame
I don't defile
I will not be forced by fate to hurt another--
That's a bit of a stretch.

I live in heaven.

(Run the numbers)

My glowing shards, or children,
Gather round your smoldering progenitor.

I know shadows spill from my lips
And build up in my eye sockets
Would you believe that I didn't put them there?

I am sorry if I disturbed you.

But you will always be welcome to dance in my body
Proliferate
Sing songs to me, or to each other
Scrawl your poetry in my spine
Giving me graffiti

My love, we have only just discovered
That we are all eating each other
We are all each other's mothers
And have only been here once

But, my sweet, sweet cherubim
We can just ignore that
So go down to the theatre or make your own
And if they start to burn,
Let us lose our minds

Coming or going, you're always so alive

Here on this mountain, you're standing by my side

Keeping the stars in a basket case,
Down in the houses they're sleeping safe
Deep in the valley where nothing goes to waste.

I'll keep you beautiful forever

If my heart was a red wheelbarrow
If my hands were like leaves that shake
If my head was a pile of stones here
If my red wheelbarrow breaks...

If my love was a problem for us
If a force was the way to go
Is it wrong that we feel enjoyment,
As we drown him in the lake?

I am not the one who's
In control,
Although they say it helps
To frame as partial.

The world's a toy but now it's
Getting old
And I just
Think integrity is integral.

If my heart was refrigerators
If my eyes were like TV screens
If my hands turn to alligators
Would you still lay love down on me?

I am not the one who's
Medical
I guess I'm lucky but I'll never really know

I was a boy and now it's
Getting old
But I am not the one who's in control.

If my heart was a red wheelbarrow
If my hands were like leaves and snakes
If my head was a pile of stones here
If my red wheelbarrow breaks...

If my heart was a red wheelbarrow
If my hands were ...
If my head was a pile of ...
If my red wheelbarrow breaks...

If my red wheelbarrow breaks...

deranged scream

IF MY RED WHEELBARROW BREAKS

Nuclear holocaust.
Empty houses.

Irradiated dust on the shelves.

People's silhouettes on the sidewalk.
No detectives.

"Sir?"

Then it all comes flooding back. We're still here. Right.

Is that any way to speak to your mother?

I scan the ground beef. Can haz. 2 peppers. Yep, can haz. An onion, American cheese. Mhm. I swipe my food stamps card. Kitty lives to see another day.

Enjoyment. Enjoy it enough. Hope you have a nice day! I hope Jesus has a nice day too.

But what if he doesn't? What if simply going forward draws the utmost hatred and ire? What if I tell you I can't change the story? At some junctures, you'd go into a rage. Or maybe scoff at me.

Just look at me, trying to excuse myself! I don't even know what's going to ha... ah, there's that gift again.

So I walk into paved paradise and there's the big yellow sun.

And there are rusted cars. One of them with its windows cracked. I peer inside and see they were reading a book by a really clever, super famous writer.

I guess I'm the most clever writer in the universe. But that doesn't change how ******* stupid I am. I start the only car in the known universe that still runs.

I'm passing empty swingsets. Lawn mowers in the front yard. The final reprieve of every restaurant, motel, and living room couch.

Vacancy, no vacancy. What's the difference?

Honk!

God, I wish you would stop doing that! Or no, I love it. The company of another person. The engineering of roads. The engineering of the horn. I take a second to apologize to you in my head and start thinking about Indian people honking at each other. When everyone was here.

My phone rings, and now I'm back to being upset. I wish you would just stop doing that. Take me off your list. I don't want any. You'll hate me. I won't enjoy it enough to say it was all worth it. I'm a predator seeking prey. You're allowed to just exist, but I'm not, and I understand why. I feel perverted when I try to interact with you. You have to let me in. If I think you're ugly I'm wrong. Just stop calling. The economy is terrible and the whole world is falling apart. Take me off your list. I'm the one calling you telling you to call me and it's just been causing problems.

"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

...what was that?

I guess my mom's right, maybe I'm schizophrenic. But I didn't hear it. Jesus ******* christ man, read between the lines!

I don't read things. I don't find things.

Anyway, that was nothing. It was irrelevant. We have those. It's called living.

As I pull into our driveway I decide I regretted the whole holocaust thing and I fall back in love. Everything snaps back into place and all the cute corpuscles set in motion and the world and all its people come back to life. It's not as grotesque as I think it is, as long as I don't look inside myself for too long, as long as there is something else to distract myself from it.

You cuddle me and validate this little idea I have that I'm the same innocent boy I was years and years ago. That the bad things in the world aren't my fault. I write another ****** poem I don't care about and you like it once or twice and I won't bother to look at your profile because I've accepted I can't keep up with everything. That's just nature. Too prolific for its own good and always trying to spin that like it's some good deal. Oh trust me it is sometimes but what the hell, like...

Dream maker