Buy me a copper tongue so I may lisp in coin.
Sell me a murder, one bird at a time.
Show me nerve, a vital rope, so thin to hang thought.
Catch me a thunder bolt. A lightning nail. A cloud hammer.
Amuse me with your manner. Enlighten the lower third
Of the lost tail. Be an ass. A horse. A snail. A burrowing
Mole. A Mass where dawn recedes into steeple, and prayers
Are answered by midnight, it's foresight of needle in the eye
Now blind. Now insighted. Now upright, leaning on the cheek
Of curved-moon wall. And I call it jubilation. Oxydation
Of all that matters unspoken, light heart in heavy room
Paying for the echo.
improv. 2.27-2.32 am
***
Lacey is so odd!
She just crawled into the pillowcase, underneath the pillow, finally got her butt in with much wiggling, managed to turn around, still inside the pilowcase, still underneath the pillow, and peekt her head out. With a stammering sigh, she then tried to lie down to rest, one corner of the pillow over one eye *blinkblinkblink*.
Obviously she was uncomfortable, staring at the pillow on top of her like it was the pillows' fault. I turn my back for a second, she darts out and is inbetween the comforter and sheet in the blink of an eye. Just that quick. I didin't even see it happen.
Then there was a loudly purring lump in the middle of my bed. Now the lump is breathing very, very deeply and steadily. Cats.
She's my baby.
*
It's almost 3 am. Again.
I've nobody else to be. This is nice.
My time is my own, and I know it will be from now on.
Liberty is a given.
Always has been.
All prisons are self imposed.
All walls are windows.
Sat Chit Annand
-c.
Sell me a murder, one bird at a time.
Show me nerve, a vital rope, so thin to hang thought.
Catch me a thunder bolt. A lightning nail. A cloud hammer.
Amuse me with your manner. Enlighten the lower third
Of the lost tail. Be an ass. A horse. A snail. A burrowing
Mole. A Mass where dawn recedes into steeple, and prayers
Are answered by midnight, it's foresight of needle in the eye
Now blind. Now insighted. Now upright, leaning on the cheek
Of curved-moon wall. And I call it jubilation. Oxydation
Of all that matters unspoken, light heart in heavy room
Paying for the echo.
improv. 2.27-2.32 am
***
Lacey is so odd!
She just crawled into the pillowcase, underneath the pillow, finally got her butt in with much wiggling, managed to turn around, still inside the pilowcase, still underneath the pillow, and peekt her head out. With a stammering sigh, she then tried to lie down to rest, one corner of the pillow over one eye *blinkblinkblink*.
Obviously she was uncomfortable, staring at the pillow on top of her like it was the pillows' fault. I turn my back for a second, she darts out and is inbetween the comforter and sheet in the blink of an eye. Just that quick. I didin't even see it happen.
Then there was a loudly purring lump in the middle of my bed. Now the lump is breathing very, very deeply and steadily. Cats.
She's my baby.
*
It's almost 3 am. Again.
I've nobody else to be. This is nice.
My time is my own, and I know it will be from now on.
Liberty is a given.
Always has been.
All prisons are self imposed.
All walls are windows.
Sat Chit Annand
-c.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
you punker f-ggot.
I so cannot say that word, even ironically.
irony is the word of the week apparently.
so is apparently, apparently.
All walls are windows."
that couldn't possibly resonate any more with me at this moment than it already does.