fixin' to die is all i
hear
the sun is rising…the
monkey talks of chasing
what’s left from last
night’s delight
still up and running
inside the brain;
a quick run to score
some more to dream about
is what i need, not this
morning’s dying light...
so how much we still got
for food money?
heaven, almost
fog–enveloped skyscraper
in a young morning.
sun shines in
silhouette;
a pearly gates opening
to some deranged mind.
stir-fry blues
cookin' my brain
on what seems to be
a very promising
chemical
only to be eaten by
several hungry ghosts
that lurks in the
back of my head.
*
published at piggpenn.blogspot.com last january 27,2014
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