Deep in the Brain of the Mind

make us your own and we shall sing together

It's good to know your way around. This is your sextant. The yardarm is there and that's the mizzenmast behind the fore-mast. You don't want to get them confused, one day it'll all be buckets and flaming pants. You'll need to know who knows what and who's just got your toes. Now, did you bring the rope like I asked? I'm Vaulting to Victory, from the old Sailor Moon outtakes on the second disc.

BWAHAHAHAhaha Viking is like the best band ever so insurance, sure. Aren't those the little yellow ones? I remember liking those a lot. I've been meaning to ask you about them.
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Goodbye, Goodbye-eee-eye, She's singing the Goodbye song to him from the small closet at the foot of the bed. Davy is thinking about the last time they did it in here and he chuckles, The glossy map, the tacks that went everywhere, and all of that fat cotton thread that still can't spell chicken. Yes she has these worn out gym socks in the bathroom and some some of her other shorts are buried in a pile of his shirts. That's okay it's like he's even more right here. He's deep in time reading an overdue book with her feet on the desk that they share. She reaches over and rubs the lump of his IPhone. Then suddenly it's nowhere near the end and Davy feels like he's loosing her the whole way down.
It's all right here and these are the only things that he can say and they're all he remembers. Davy fixates on her ass hanging out of the closet and begins to cry. A growing pink pile of underwear is sitting in the open suitcase. It's other half is filled with old mail and his waterproof vibrator, What?
He openly snortles back a giantsized wad of a snotball. This pill of luxury isn't wise nor should not it be consumed by the quick or the dumb, He stops. Karen stop, He squats in the doorway holding his knees. Just stop there please. I didn't know about the yellow ones, not all of them. I made most up most of that in my head so it shouldn't count. Even it's right it shouldn't count, so stop. I meant it when I said, You're on Candid Camera.
Karen stands up. Without turning to face him she says, BWAHAHAHAhaha Viking is playing the Crown tonight with the Wet Tips. I'm going without you Davy.

Totem

Tonight is old. It's wett but current and bored. I'm watching nothing but stars in the often sky that happen... do... tonight is lame like old, young like song, even as blue... Equal after the sun, noon or scripted yellow you are to me... A we (as sound)

Songlet is Best

fig.0231) FizzGraf MT. "Magical, like a chorus of like minded souls in a froth of cotton fumes." Over fake doors, under refurbished ladders, gypsum board and bent yellow pipes offering us an unmade bed and a stained window. Our one chance at tomorrow. Magnetic guts from at least a thousand cassettes are strewn across the room. Hee-Haw style, fancy dress shoes cling to the floor like it's '86 all over again. Hee-Haw, goes the sound. Hee-Haw, we're closer then we were. Hee-Haw, it's hilarious. Listening for trains, leaning out over the rails like two people with no time at all. Better maps, that's what we need. We could use a melody for singing with this chorus; in whose curious presence more patients wait to be found. With hands over our heads, someone passes by and asks, "gender?" There's stars in this sweet tooth of mine and some atoms left from the sky, Tonight the whole angle of heaven sleeps without light. Ordering its coffee darkest, t

Whiskers, chanting, "swap me, swap me!"

Fig.32) Aging poorly We're just together, taking ourselves for a tidy sum of walk and now our toes are wet and cool in the Lak, beside a cool stone that could drive a modernist to their flint. There's a listening experience that feels prepared, "our's for now, ours it says! Here's the hammer and it's wrapped in its own design already. A union in time-space, this card is our greetings, our massive, our very patience is reflected in this resolve." Suddenly, there's a cut away and she's wearing the pants that I've made for her, slow blue like painted smoke . I'm thinking about her hunched over the kitchen table, something that's stuck. There's a carving knife in her hand but from here, it's the same as an old spoon. From here my computer is sitting on my guilty seat, I'm thinking about champagne and comparing it to a thick wad bees and wondering whats in it for me? It's an anxious season, filled with not enough of anythin

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