We are back on schedule again says the warm and fuzzy Cheshire cat with a grin and Alice’s arms are long and she has grown three times her size again and she is just not used to it. What a metaphysical cave this is? As I wander and weep through shades of grey waters with one hand on my thigh and the other on my hip, I sit in shaman style and akin myself back to where we begain our first anthems and wounderings and wombs of the Netherlands on a picnic in July.
The universe opens up to me like a fate muse of the resistance to start a spark of the infinite in you. I sit raven, worrying about you so much that I cannot help but cry and hope you will become like the willows in my sleep. Kept above ground hurts the eyes when you are in the dark my dears, in the underland. Hollow forms keep constantly consonant and wrathing to the machine and kept secret by the seductive.
I ate the fruit again and rose up and did my best to remember the ones who haven’t survived the up stream flow of life. We must carry our dead in our memory more to smile in the act of remembering the beauty of true spirits who have touched us in moments that ember us along. The fire may be beat out of us but rise again the glories- we seize through ice.
The hierophant does not know what to say about all of this. The griffin is tangled in the dawn and the turtle seems upside down as of late. No dear matter though, we carry marry on and money and forget for a minute that there is no distance whatsoever in between me writing this with all characters present and the reader staring at the page, the screen, the scribes dictates only something higher than the soul sitting on a bed near Carnegie Melon or Tom Waits, Gnarls Barkley, and Lady Gaga. Rough everglade land now coming towards us with increasing velocity and towards the equator rabbit hole we go.
There was a time that I floated, mid trance and a trace of lace caddy lingerie. I sense the faces around me drawn and now stiffening. Prizes and so thought wins became blemished and unforgiving. But we succumbed to the taints of the world and then laughed again later on. There are irovies to twinkle and minor notes to play in times for candles and sex liquor. Maze match me in heaven and hell, unbound by the restrictions of flowing transience and perfumed anarchy.
I stand no more in the rain until another shadow night in which we delve into insanity. There is a presence that presents itself in insanity that can be as common as a feather found on the ground while you were walking down the park bench when you were ten. The mind loops us back and forth in so many clockwise directions that it’s delirious after a time. So much ticking backward into the future is needed.
We cabaret theatre and save each other from the rashness of reality and its commonplace violence with real inquisitions. The grin and grimace came lightly into my window and I spoke to our Cheshire- for which army are you for then: faint or follow? Twilight formed a smile around her face and back again to the bottom of her spine where it stayed and gave her great pleasure through the night.