Half in half out. These turning, whirring, spinning thoughts fall like stones to the deep caverns of my inner mind. Feeling half crazed by the mourning light no not crazed but dazed. I sit here and think: "Maybe I can run to that stop sign and back and my life will be...not my life..." Somehow I am changed into something more or less substantial in all this twisted fubbling.
Can two and two really make four?
Its really just two halves of a whole.
Huh, maybe it has something to do with the chineese, no, not chineese something like a pale fluttering of a bats wing but less ringing in the ears. A hurricane of laughter but not laughter, coughing?
maybe.
How can you mean what you say but not mean what you say you are going to do? Maybe I should turn the band three times, or was it four, so that somewhere between you and me there is less catastrophy.
Its all just a bunch of half formed elephants, dont cry.
Rachel?
No it cant be the man who wrapped himslef in falmes for the cause of deforestation. How about we sit here so that when they come they can run into us from behind joining not just our souls but our flesh.
Thats sick.
Its not my falut that I smell like mangos and arcryllic paint.
What about all of the oranges?
Just do your math homework and you will figure out why Hitler killed the Nazis.
Come closer your warm.
No not like that, like this.
I am sorry.
Ouch!
Its ok I found the candles, now we can begin the...oh wait , shit! Who dropped the cat?
Coughing in the scilence.
What is that supposed to mean?
Just shut up I can almost hear them coming.
No you'll never make it to the stop sign.
Ah well, at least I tried to fix it.
Nena
1 comment:
Put the ear muffs on the cookie. Wha-! Who painted the kitten?
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