I’m an atheist,
Yet praying for the bravest men!
Stay golden. Afloat the marking sickness of the night.Drift away in the depths of my subconscious ,
Stray away from broken hearts.
Push the air through the your fingertips.
Dance baby, dance.
The cars are whistling on the rails to a stop. I feel a piss of air is in order. Yet they don’t come about. Its electronic. Mechanical age has diminished without a trace. My blood boils to zero fumelessly. My eyelids drop below a hundred. Sleep beckons with her long white talons.
I park my car in the handicap space.
I swallow my medicine. I rebel.
I rebel to the forests and trees and meadows. I rebel to the stars. I rebel.
I re-bell the door. Should be someone at home to answer.
I …. Oh, hello!
I’m selling cookies!
He shouts no!
Once beyond an ear in the galaxy there lived a cookoo bird named Alvin. He liked to chirp, to fly and harp. Yet no sound traveled through time to remind him by. So he built a rocket and rocked it. Fuel was scarce so the bird ate the whole thing, belched real loud and went to sleep, dreaming of flying, chirping and harping.
The end is nigh.
Hey! There he is!