Telephone wires were cut way too much in the city of supposed seraphim. You ran to those corners daily to get the news that the devil came back into town today, wearing an apron. I stumbled upon the hermit daily, talk it out through me and we will all hear you, one way or another. I will not falter at the last steps towards a new age and times changing into the infinite. We march on, regardless of the temperature (though it is stifling hot out there to be sure).
Apart for the medications media and the melancholy madness, how are you? I seem to be somewhere in between desert storm and a chainsaw through the mad hatter’s hat. Bones are scattered in the sand, left driving us home in the middle of the night just after the bad storm that shook the house's tight rafters and below.
It was rotten luck to catch the steal wagon on a blazing day as this one, the wheels burning and slightly crooked, veering towards the right. Exhausted from interrogation and searing tongued vertigo, I wait- for time to erase itself. Ancestors’ role-play in their graves and wait for you to wake up, hide behind something else for awhile.
The caged know-it-alls sit in their thrones and panic on the moats around the bedroom, I shake as well sometimes for fear of it again.