Swirling in the sky,
worming and twirling
tendrils…
I feel as if I should reveal some great truth to you.
Standing fat as a beached whale,
rotten and full of shit
before you.
The caterpillar’s charms of
absolute objectivity
are no more outstanding
than the solid truth
that mushrooms grow and shrink,
(depending on what side you eat),
Our fucked up minds and hearts.
But still climbs…
The worming tendrils of crawling smoke…
Contemplating stolen universes
and discovered dreams.
Seeking and searching
for diamond rings in
Cracker Jack boxes
while we choke on our Lucky Charms.
Milk dripping from our faces
like the ravenous,
deadly,
cereal beasts we are.
But the diamond rings were
lumps of coal in our throats,
silencing our voices
in the hope
the coal will fall out our asses
and warm our homes.
Rising and worming…
Pondering the answers so clear.
Trying to figure out
why the rest of the world
is so fucking stupid…
staring into their phones…
They must have forgotten the sky
fitted with wonders of
pink unicorns and
fire breathing dragons
clouding up the bright blue
Floating sea…
Worming…
Twirling, tickling
sensitive noses and
burning our eyes.
Visions blurred to the images
reflected in the broken mirrors
of what we dare call truth…
And the caterpillars
sitting in smoke
lift up their heads
wondering…
WHO the fuck R U?
