time is getting stale now like a biscuit that was left out a little too long on a lazy monday morning. a beautiful mademoiselle is in the kitchen making scrambled eggs and pancakes and heating plates up in a microwave so they aren’t cold when food touches ceramic.
such a good idea.
and the father of all ideas is eating breakfast too, up in the eternal depths of space, the starry heavens, the endless divide. he dines with jesus and all the angels.
who knows what they eat.
so,
on this day of days, this morning of turkish delights and a most wonderful schism of thought process and super furry animals, i think of thoughts that need to be thunk. i rampage through the back alleyways and gritty side streets of subconscious metropolis to find answers to the questions that plague us all.
life, and what its about, and what it is, and how beautifully ugly everything is. wonderfully dull, full of exciting depression.
i run the gamut through a most impressive labyrinth starring david bowie as the ultimate evil force and jim henson’s cute and ghastly little creature puppets that dance around way too much.
breakfast is done,
force fed, really.
and yes, i’m done being groggy.
