All I have to do is as important as a cat's to-do list, very remiss with every scratching of a check.

Where are all my hands, for they are not all on deck?

All I ever breathe in this post-dream reality is as a wish upon a star, unbelievably close and undoubtedly far.

I mean this most sincerely when I say it all has meaning, as our world is run by the remains of dinosaurs who got stuck in tar.

Have you ever thought ' what is this I put in my car? '

I try to hold on to a figment of imagination, as it flakes away like paint on absorbent severed trees.

It brings me to my knees when I admit I haven't hit the bottom yet, for all I feel is the certainty of sinking.

Chasing a fading note, the volume swells and a bad grounding wire is evident as the buzzing grows until the next track hits and I'm left alone in this
mirage of some meaningful nonsense I let

sweep me far away. What a game to play, tip toeing in a giant's nest!

I forgot what I set out to say, forgot the melody, forgot the meaning and yet I still hear birds chirping.