today was bitter. tomorrow sensed it's indignation and ceased to be, spurned from achieving the present moment by a whim seconds old.
i miss my peach trees. i miss how i plugged them into the wall. i miss their fuzzy interface and round seduction.
sometimes i feel like this and other times i don't.....all daffodil, not bloomed yet, just full of petals...tickle tickle. i giggle at the fact that my body is a human vase.
rose head drinking many teas. rose head drinking rose petal tea. rose petal tea like a neurosis gathering a head within a head within a head, perfumed and blooming...all.
but then the fingers entwine long and budding, the hair tangles like branches
in the core shiva presses buttons. he is driving us home. we sleep in the back seat with thumb in mouth.
i drank the word water but it tasted like ink. i ate the word bread but it tasted like paper. i worship the word god but he is musty like a cellar. i love the smell of old books because i hunger and thirst for truth.
transmission from my tummy. you better listen sandwich.
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