page zero. 
                                                                                                                                      go to sleep.







       today was strange;
       I witnessed the sudden cadence of life,
       
       through the eyes 
       of fifty strangers. 

       they gasped in perfect harmony;
       in one voice
       as sound rang out
      
       and their bodies crashed together like toy cars.
 
       and in the darkness of a pregnant morning sky,

       I saw
            sickness in 
                       sudden death.



                                                            Somewhere,
                                                                                     a spoiled child plays 
                                                                                                          With toy cars and wind-up people.
                                                                                     He knows not the consequences of His actions,
                                                                                     for this plastic flesh only sags and crumbles 
                                                                                                                  like flowers in his eyes.

                                                                                                            and although we cannot see the marionette strings
                                                                                            t  u  g   g  ing
                                                                                           and pulling,
                                                                                          controlling
                                                                                           and killing, 
                                                                                            they are ever-present,
                                                            like stars hidden under the cool blue blanket of dawn.

       so here I stand staring from the sidewalk,
       in shock,
       stupefied by the beauty weaved up high in the heavens
       and the utter spite for humanity that lays twisted before me:


        it’s like an ugly finger-painting and a book of love poems
        sharing only their schizophrenic creator.