Fruit flies masturbate with their noses. They appear to me as a network of sister stars, all cloud-like in fast forward (FF). Catching the rift of the other flies, the bug orbits around another one with wings so marrily, marily, marily- O memories corrupt like files on my hard drive. It's come to the point now when I look outward on Earth, Up, If you will, There are so many pixels of particles absorbing into my eyes, just a moment enough for them to be sensed. Inbetween my five-pointed body and the star I'm meditating on (It must be a planet, the sun hasn't even set..) there are only my eyes himself, and the ever so surreal fruit fly shuffle dance---- Another human identifies me. Vocalizes a pattern, my name. My name. I see her waving, accross the park, near the swings. This isn't gravity but I get up and go orbit around another one with wings.
man i really like how you tied that back to the beginning. And I really dig the images and...i dunno, your style i guess. This is a gem.
thanks man, I've got to ramble And I try to most eloquently and psychedelic, experimental-whatever, Most of my poetry is about my trips, or my observations, thoughts, modulated for kicks, Or something. Thank you for the feedback, my friend.
That's sweet, I like. The vivid imagery and laid back style is very inspirational. Thanks for sharing.
