Splinters – other animals

and I freeze no matter how fancy the pen or the whisky it’s all the same my lost shoes they say this winter the victims will write history

down smooth stone steps crumble the story hide it under a centipede’s unused foot walk home shedding your skin like the moon the next morning build a fire unlock all the doors

cracking what joints I have left and pulling the sword from the stone in my kidney but just kidding we will have to form an orderly queue after all

but then I will cover my many nipples with my many thumbs and the dance will go on

at the end of the day there is little appetite for making music still we feel we must take a chance and ask who would make shoes that are so uncomfortable

keep writing reviews of movies we haven’t seen in order to assemble to unbreakable script

the factory of disappointment spills over the edge and they eat it up according to the program though a glitch causes a mild sense of euphoria in the dark

after great doubt eye strain and intermittent rain some peanut butter and crackers but months grow crumble and blow away in the humid breeze it never left

which podcast to indulge in the dog’s keen eyes as I eat a pretzel who wrote that poem that really hit me when I was trying to wake up after not sleeping

music from an escaping dream or an undigested night in which we finish the great & clever expense reports designed to ensnare the accountant of the faerie king