I feel the need for psychic incense and circulative air conditioning. To be as a hothouse tomato, cool but not blue. The cucumber is not welcome in my water, but that is beside the point. The rainbow is not an arch but a circle, ignore the imaginary line between the sun and your head. The colors are at my door and the postman wears a hat, this is how I know my eyes are open. To draw a conclusion is to never lift the pencil from the paper. Nothing means to end, it just gave up long ago, yet still goes on. On to the next line with my half-circle cup in front of me.
No comments:
Post a Comment