These clouded bits, life-matrix, moving, changing, become static in a flash.
You squeeze me and squeeze me like I'm a gnarly pimple to be popped. Beware! My bloody puss may hit your face!
In May he might say you may flex your might.
Yesterday the sun shone. I stood in it's light. Today I shine.
Little flies and sparkly things, dust in sunbeams, texts and emails, itches in my sock – so easily distracted!
Meaning, which once resounded, has left, and all the remains are ghostly marks upon this screen.
"Write right, right now!" he wrote, a thought writ large, by rights, upon the ledger of his mind.
The stakes are high, they say. But I ask: What have the stakes been smoking?
Me momma mushed me peas and made a mushy mess of 'em!
Small steps, circles mowed in grass: Zen garden, American suburbia.
I sit atop my tiny world and tend my tiny rose. Content with all, I'll never leave this paradise I chose.
Dashboard Jesus nods "Yes" to every moment, through every turn and bump – what an affirmation!
No! No! No! No! Nope! Not gonna do it! No way! Nope, nada, no!
Sing a song like 50 Cent; rap some gangsta lies; pocket all the dough you make; be rich until you die!
Numerous luminous voluminous spheroids condescend to many lit, big balls.
We asked for rain and got a flood. Our hard-packed dirt has turned to mud.
Onion body, pepper bite, olive oil, salt delight, make a rich and tasty treat – see I never mentioned meat!
My next Everest: the Great Art of Doing Nothing.
The heart flies from the chest toward the golden sky, connected by a silver cord, transmitter of ecstasy.
Getting a lobotomy would mean a lot to me ... er, no, it wouldn't.
Excuse me. I'm just going to sleep here. Step over me like I'm a rock or a puddle or something. Ignore me as I weather away.
The rain in Spain is mainly on the plain ... but here in Texas, it's mainly in the Valley!