Perdu

Bumbling beehive. Happy feet? Stand still!!!

You have a colour to manage, a peace to uphold and a vase to balance.

Uggggg the upkeep of unruly whipper whapper multi linguistic tongues.

Spewing  lists of deep slashes, deep mirrors, gashes continually reflecting the other side..

I weep on the breasts of Tamar.

In full swing while other children have failed to “take off”.

Fiction fortified, fighting the fyke (net)..breathless and worded out.

Its like trying to paint a master[peace]; dipping a dry brush tip  into a clan(g) of a pot of gold coins

So. I. Spat. On. It.

To soften the friction of black blankness misunderstood.

Scrapping and scratching  at hibidi (in the meantime).

Tentatively fixing and pulling back the left.

 

“Tie your shoelaces!!!”

Bellowed the wicked west mud wind.

“You scandalous scally-wag, childish rascal, youthful insult!

Boo hoo-hoo (sarcastic)  for you babe sprout, midget moppet, cherub, minor ankle biter.!

Ouchea herding a trip of scapegoats!! hahaha

For if you doooo trip?

There is nothing to catch the fall.

You will break every china and every bleached bone.”

Grappling air and gurgling the swallowed to regurgitate…. dangling beads they cant see?!

But….

Who cares?

 

I now stand at the table reserved for thirty six-three.

Empty; save, for a napping-king laying under the shade of the hotep tree, heavy with ungraspable, ethereal, vaporous octadictated fruit..

What a beautiful sight.

I am sleepy..weary

i am wavy…

Note to self: Forget to pack the three jars full of salty liquid, now crystallized on the window sill,

still overlooking the cold beach sand.

Oh, but do remember to pack a book. A good good book.

my eyelids betray me, i fall face first into Jeremiah*.

 

*Twenty Nine Eleven