Cluttered paper, ash, and flippy rolodex.
A/C goes from cool to uncomfortable.
Harmonica, Barometer, sleepy limbs.
Foldable, uncomfortable,
Adjustable chairs.
Degas and Monet
In cheap frames,
This must be some sort of irony.
Microsoft.
Megahard.
With a non-slip grip.
Flaming Pennents of Joy.
Wilde was weird.
Same glass as the last.
Forty Watt,
Eden of moths.
Three artist, one song.
Annie Lennox, Joe Crocker, and Procol Harum.
Each hits me like a bat to the kneecaps.
Dr. Spock's baby book,
Wait, he doesn't have pointy ears...
My trees,
Sparkle with the butts of glowing bugs.
No too romantic when ya think of it that way.
Miniature mind revolutions.
Without Ozzy, there'd be no Black Sabbath.
Without Black Sabbath, there'd be no Ozzy.
A lighter/pager in one.
How idiotic.
But it flickers in the dark,
And melts your friends.
I believe in miracles,
Where ya from,
You sexy thing.
Welcome to my mind in the wee hours,
Please enjoy your stay,
And complimentary pillow mints.