Dream Scribe
Opensource
The Methodology Of Movement.
Madness doesn't define
the human spirit,
Nor does it change the truth
about itself.
Madness is as madness does.
I saw a kingfisher singing
on a telephone pole ;
it sang a little message
of Hope just for me.
Then it flew off in the direction
I was going.
My soul's voice hovers
just beneath the ceiling
Of my broken mind.
Who's job is it to tell
the nature of my madness?
"Not I," said the cat,
On the mat,
By the open door
Lit by sunshine, hail and rain.
"Not me," said the pig,
In its sty,
Relaxing on a bed of hay~stalks.
Soaking up the sun,
Through its proud snout.
"Not we," said the crowd,
Extra loud,
As they waltzed,
Atop a massive Pink Cloud,
Changing hands,
With the band.
I would do anything
to have just one...
Sane...
Thought...
per day.
But hey,
There she goes,
As it flows,
And it blows,
Mighty big and bad.
Fuck The World!!!
Fuck this.
Fuck everyone and everything.
The reality of moving
is barely imperceptible
but real.
This will do me.
Does this make sense?
Does it have to?
Does it matter?
It does and it doesn't
To me.
🍃