cannoball

you were shot by a cannon into the middle of the night. the rebel forces began to ally against the pain of your eyes. they've been looking at a computer screen all day, yet like a pigeon you return to roost upon it. the digital x's and o's the 1's and 0's they all add up to data that you probably don't need. it's all simple formula, like a baby's. one part powder, one part water, and the ultimate nutrition. Nutria, nutrients, and the buck eye'd teeth of some old war propaganda film. we all march to a the same beat no matter what you say. We all goose step like the villains from the second world war. we need to break this pattern, it's unnatural like the reign of the past few years and the black rain of Tokyo streets. I want to hold your hand. I want to laugh. I want to eat creme brulee with you. I want to say that things are well and not good. Superman does good and you do well. proper syntax, proper grammar, these are the things we hold into the light. A candle in the middle of the forest burns bright in a night such as this. a winged horse (you have to say it phonetically like wing---ed...drag it out) jumps over the cow that jumped over the moon. A wonderful exploration of the connections of our minds. Like lost train stations in some forgotten country that occupies some unforgotten time. Can we be tired? we probably should be if we want to get up on time to do the Jersey Shore daily things. Gym. Tan. Laundry. Gotta keep it fresh and have a tub of gel to do our hair with. Faux hawk red hawk early dunk and in between. The scattered showers of today will soon pass, the lifting of parasitic wasps will be accompanied by a glimmer of sunshine. I'm old, normally I would be in bed of this time counting sheep. Guess I'm back to the old ways when I was a little kid and refusing to go to bed. You know what they used to say? that sleep was just practice for other things. dreaming of imagery. dreaming of disposal. and dreaming of the days when we were together.