||[Jan. 30th, 2015|06:54 pm]
Business as usual. Chopping up lines, antagonizing the tarantula with weed smoke, fixing a butter sandwich. Holding out a hand to try and stop speeding cars. Attempting to touch time. To put a finger in it and stretch it apart.|
An egg thrown against a brick wall and what of the embryo but birdseed and mineral oil. Allergic to dander and teeth. When the desert comes up in conversation it metaphors, dries up talk, and having to lie is hard enough without bringing in issues of where there is to live and where I do.
When hypnosis doesn’t work astronomy’s not the worst bedfellow.
Laptop in the washer, grenadine in the waffle batter, bitters in the apple sauce. Tapioca pudding doesn’t ask its slurper where to sit or bring a housewarming gift. The butter, however, is polite and pleased as punch to be so.