for the ring around your siamese dream
i have the most hilarious idea: let's blubber on the cou-ch and fall asleep with disabilities. you show me yours; you wait; we suffer for the passage of mathematical measures; "why" is a weather; "why" is our folly and our failure. proliferating roaches can not keep us from that late upholstery, can not keep the body from the house's creaking, the house's brave location, the army of absent inhabitants, the house's abstract return.
would you rather have a lump in your dad or a ring around your sleeping butt? would you rather consider the physics of a lease agreement or forking over for the kitten you've always dreamed of? if you found a petrified ham sandwich in that back of the drawer, would you:
a) hesitate before throwing it out
b) ask it why it did that thing
c) pass out against its humid back
d) watch it for subconscious cues
let's hope there's a hot lunch buffet on the london beach--
let's hope we can rake up the leaves without collapsing into somber dreams.