As they go, stream of consciousness, useless flow.
Snake that eats herself, beating drums and mess of dust
is it occult or straight up the sun? We smoked cigarettes
when the wind was strong. We avoided two animals for
far too long. We were too, I know. The screams coming
from the beige nature ruins — nature flourished — walls
sang songs for too long. Headache, and sweet memories
of lemons, striped umbrellas, and beach ping pong. Yes
I did have a childhood, now in brain regions that are for
vision. Things weren’t smooth, and then I was old. Then
we picked up the cat, and slept under a sky of fantasy.
Snakes that eat herself. Desert now, and no humans. Oh,
how could gods be made of us? Look at the sun, listen to
the river and birds, we are here just to see this. River of
candy, slick lime sky. Life could be enough, and it’s all we
have. I hanged on the moon once. Weightless, fruitless,
powerless, came back hopeless. Now I dream, and coffee
feels better than god. Which god? What god? Silky milky
way, stars. Let’s stay warm tonight.
