When the baker bakes the baked bakery bakes,
Do they also bake the recipe required?
What's the recipe for a poem?
Does the poet pen the poetical poem poetically to pen their pretty poems?
What temperature do you bake ink-
To make it a bestseller?
How much baking powder do you bake into a page
To perfect its pagey turny pageiness?
What kinda poem crust does a poem become encrusted in?
Should it crumble?
Should it rhyme?
Should it cry a melodrama so dramatic that drama llamas like “that too much drama!”?
Wait,
Where did drama llama come into this?
Who else is in the kitchen cooking this poem pie?
Is the poem pie perfectly pied in its drama crust?
WAIT-
we forgot about the filling…
What do you put in a poetical poem pie?
Should I peach the pied poem?
The peaches plumpy peachy smile?
(i’m not sure how the drama llama feels about that)
Should I fill the peachy pied poem with orange and lemon citrus ?
A little bit of snazz to the snazzy apple pie.
Crap, I forgot the apples as well.
Well now my peachy pied lemony apple-orange poem is too long!
And i still don’t know what temperature to torch these thoughts at!
Well the pied piper pipes in that maybe my peachy pied poem needs some pepper
To pipe the spice to pied poem levels!
But lemony apple-orange peachy pied poems with pepper seems a touch peppery for simple pied poems to be.
But who ever said a poem pied can’t have spice and everything nice WITH lemon and apple and orange and peachy fuzzy smiles?
So,
My peachy peppered pied lemony appley orangy poemy is piping hot to boot.
Now i just need to figure out whos gonna eat the **** thing.

The clock revealed 4 am.
Glorious blue tones overtook the darkness;
The chirping melody was blurring into the scene of this vital composition of the dawn.

The buildings remained quiet.
The nearly vacant streets welcomed a few hard-working men;
I sensed the smell of the syrupy pastries from the old, dear bakery.

I pulled the sheets off of myself.
Let the chill early breeze settle on my chest;
The entirely opened windows left the walls glazed with the gold tinted sunrays.

I close my eyes again.
Perhaps I woke up by accident, though this rare occurrence was delightful;
For now, I'll just let my mind continue it's journey through my dreams...the deepest corners of my visions, the endless floating through the seas.

I am filled with flour
And I am filled with dough
Sometimes I think I matter
and then I really don’t

Come now
Pitter patter
Away with me I say
Or down the hall of laughter
Away from me today

Here or there or never
I really still don’t know

I try to think it over
And end up just as filled with dough

-the bakery of my thoughts

A baker on our street could not bake,
He could only fish in the nearby rivers and lake,
Mum bought his bakery,
He bought our old fish factory,
Both are happy for God's sake.
28/4/2019

Walked to the bakery
bought some sweets
started to walk
back home
and noticed
blue and yellow markings
on the ground.
blue is for water
yellow is for what?
gas.
why do they spray paint
on the ground?
because it’s to mark the location
of pipes and other things down there

CDC was basically closed. Their OLCC application is stuck in processing somewhere between here and wherever. I went to the other one, instead. The taco place out front still isn't open. I have to imagine that a taco shop is going to do pretty well next to a dispensary. It was T2 something. Counter guy too cute, fast talker. It's a good smoke, but I ate a tray of brownies. I wish I could throw up, but if I'm gonna have love handles, I'd rather they be diabetes sweet, rather than the alternative.