The pills were meant to dig my eyes out with.
Prescribed with enormous hoopla,
Fanfare of the enrichments near a grave stone,
Trumpets and the like. The best
Part of the half I ate was a city street,
The way the other half left town
Before something really withheld percolated.
A creased note under the door,
Some light far off broken by feet
And this mortuary movie is over. Rendered
Part good time part granted insurrection,
Time released sanctions to a burn memory,
And the plan of our secret sleep confused
Into a popped vacuum tube’s cool filament.
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2 comments:
not to be a dick, but I think its "twenty twenty twenty-four hours to go"
Yeah get me to the airport, & get me on the plane, hurryhurryhurry before I go insane. I can't control my fingers, I can't control my brain. oh oh oh oh oh-oh!
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