If you knew my mind
If only you could see
Man it's so rare in there it's a mess and it gets dark some spots and there is **** every where, hanging down and piled up, all around and beneath your feet.
Can't hardly take a step without stubbing a toe, cracking a shin, or scraping your knee.
Or rocking your dome
on the crown,
cuz your looking down
Taking care about where
You place your feet.

But it's pretty neat (not like tidy, but it's kinda cool) to see it all blink and beat.
It rains word in there. Sometimes great hurricanes, most times just spits and spurts, but it thunders something spectacular, when the lightning is all around, and it's torrents pouring in Great cascades, and a sudden deluge can flood the stage.
There's this core in there that I found one time, and I could tell it had shell made to keep stuff in. It appeared solid, albeit delicate, egg-shell thin, and I wondered what it contained within. So I cracked it open, consequence be ******, and I found a kind of aticky sweet viscous goo, not unlike melted chocolate, but it glows in pulsing rhythm and can really light up the room. I worry I break it too often, like I don't let it rest and recuperate, heal up its cracks all the way, and refill-up the goop.

I service of this I've noticed some things, Sometimes the fillings change.
Sometimes it is melted chocolate
Sometimes it's carob, and lies and it tastes like ****.
Sometimes it smells like **** too...
some times...
Some times it's doodoo.

Sometimes you can't tell until you really get in there and smell the stain you seemed to have left on the sheets.
I swear it's a Reese's peanut butter egg I brought to bed with me and then forgot to eat.
I must'a laid it down and rolled on top of it. I swear to god, scouts honor -
    I didn't **** the bed.

(He **** the bed;

at least [the very least] -

metaphorically.)




7:02 am 6/14/25