alone at the table waiting to be served wearing a frown still waiting frown grows larger and larger until a cookbook drops on my head and out of my hat jumps a rabbit and he does the tango with a chicken who is running in circles screaming the sky is falling and I open the cookbook and it is written in a foreign language and I am sitting at the table waiting to be served I am wearing a frown a big, big frown
boredom is the moment you start noticing how your tongue lays against your teeth and the weight of the tongue becomes heavy, akward, and most uncomfortable.
my feet float above the floor, and flowers fall like rain, and furniture spins and dances like fingers strumming a violin strung from the moon, my joy knows no gravity my joy knows no gravity my joy knows no gravity
connections within the human mind jump sluggish as bull frogs from lily to lily until from malice or inspiration it quickens like a raging fire then darts feverishly between thoughts and words and moments of memory and recollection sprinting so fast that the latter blurr becomes an image of fantasy
The moment, the day, the breath Where everything you have known Ceases to exist The moment, the day, the breath Waiting, dead, resurrection The stupidity The complete stupidity Of a woman falling in love
He lays down **** like a shadow Thrown by a movie spotlight He eats passion like he is ******* the juices of the last peach on Earth He walks proudly like a naughty child Who made a clean escape He talks integrity like a lion With a human child in his mouth He pushes imagination like A clown in a silent temple He lays down **** And it’s all over me
