To All the Soldiers of Creativity
Feels like my body is beating me up. I have bruises I don't know
why, maybe my cells have evolved a weapon, a baseball bat, and they're
taking it to me. Smoke has been invited to my lungs and I'm throwing
a party for all the dead soldiers. My platoon died to save a rest
stop, to save ourselves form being buried in banks and fast food joints.
We are the phoenix. We will rise again and burn this town to the
ground with our ideas.
How did this happen?
Unconscious visions of unreality cleansed me of logical thinking.
I was flying above the trees but I went too high.
I bumped my head on the clear sky and I fell,
Landed on my bed.
I woke up.
Mt. Pleasant Police
"I am an oversensitive emotion junkie absorbed in myself being absorbed
in other people," he said, "I have found that people are paper dolls cut
from recycled paper by ignorant people under the influence of a sugar rush.
I ask you please slice me a piece of you and throw me a vein rope so I
don't have to let go of your bright elegant imperfect presence."
Don't Be offended I was addressing myself
Ring around the donated organ a nifty incense burner a reign of confusion
scent has begun and I have become a paper weight of my own ailments they're
parasitic, symbiotic omnivores and I'm an herbivore victim of being my
Please wait yea you I was just talking to myself again you don't have
to leave you're a birth defect too we can sit together and not talk and
we can drink robo and take melatonin and fall into a coma where we can