morphie1313

or "and I am" Prelude We are small universes. This is clear when the meta better physics clang like the tops of garbage cans. There's gonna be a cold front tonight. Low pressure as I try to say "hi" to you. But you look at me like my antennae are showing and my skin has gone a putrid green. This change of weather goes right to my head and my stomach churns like the spanish channel novella that plays whenever you enter a room. Satellites pick up this drama, beam it straight into space for Martians to laugh at. "Oh, those Earthlings", as they hold tentacles or whatever those big, scaly, dangling things are. I feel

Driving up the Sawgrass Expressway, late night, on too many tokes of something with a bouquet reminiscent of blueberries and hayfields, I saw your face in the tread marks and oil stains. Even on the road, your lips are rain clouds; thunderclaps against my skin. My stereo's sadistic shuffle settles on The Cure, Pictures of You, and I know my course. The reflectors slice the night into Frost's Wood and I choose the Undiscovered Country of Dots. We communicate through dots, you and I. Signals, radar blips. Dots that advocate Truth. Dots that lay waste to Gods. Dots that say I'm Sorry about Everything. But dots can't carry the one