“Before I could even bat an eyelash, five hours of sleep,
three hours of activity went flying down the drain
Like a bluelight blackout.
So let me tell it straight with my bird-flipping finger
cocked on the Uninstall button,
Mobile game developers can go to hell.”
It hangs sanguine on their necks like a clay verandah.
Their red splotches have a squeak for a namesake,
A remarkably insignificant rite of passage.
I will evict my inner fascination with the box everyone wants me to step into
From the corners of my utterly beautiful mind.
I keep losing great people like the things in my pockets,
And I don’t know how to miss them till I feel the hollow space.
The 1 AM return across George Street
Is becoming as familiar as not feeling my face on the way back.
How in the hell did I sweat through two different shirts tonight..?
“I’ve got a weight in my heart that shots for a pound won’t fix.”
You are not your body. You are you, an essence that merely inhabits your flesh and blood form. Just as you can inhabit your body, you can dwell in the Nimbus Trees. It’s our gift as the Phrumer Lasandra, we are the storms personified.”
I struggle to find peace in an inconceivably huge world whose heart has crusted over,
So I seek refuge in the small world of a large bowl,
And try to remind myself that tomorrow is a new day.
I do not feel disgust looking at this,
“I stare only with blank eyes.
I need to consult this with the film over my corneas.”
“There are good people in my life,
Blessings in human form,
Full of toxins that have deep-fried the azures and scarlets and oranges
From their souls.
I can feel my skin bubbling, and I’m submerged.