The taste of iced tea melts away solemnly in my mouth glazing away to
an aftertaste of mint and lemon.. To cloud over this dismal and weary
state to call into my soul to find what fruit it is I bare.. Yes and
butterflies are like some lost monarchs overseeing their kingdom of
viciousness and mistrust.. Fly them so like an ornamental vision across
the sky.. and somewhere across the vastness of that expanse of
loneliness, despair, and in that realm of sheer darkness I hear your
voice echoing like splendor and beams of light are shed down on me..
Dear true vision given the vivid and enveloping mercy on the rotting
and intensely smelling soul of a sinner.. like a retortion to garlic,
sweet iced tea.. Thunderbolts cease me like an electric fire running
down whipped cream running away from a pie.. And inside there is
spontaneous electricity surging me to come under its control. I am held
there with lemon at my side to squeeze and confirm my vicious retreat.
I hold her soft hands high into the ever neon rising straight into the
sky. My arms then come to lay at my side like Jell-O and perceive the
thoughts that have come to me to be seen. They explode with wonder and
joyous ecstasy at the audible and friendly words that are surrounding
me like singing trumpets and cellos all emanating from a mystical
communion with a television set. I rise and lower upon the whim of
thoughtful free flowing consciousness. And still the distance, and
still the glows as the peak comes gently to a low.. to wake to ringing
buzzers, as it is again time to go.
