day tree

its the day tree. it starts at the base....the roots. i wake up, and i feel like someone went at me with a baseball bat, and their hitting percentage is like . 695 with eight home runs. pretty good with a bat. and then my day branches out. my choices all have a haze on them. its summer remember, no big responsibilities.

so my first branch is nutrition right? wrong. i haven't been hungry for a while, so i first have to get this taste out of my mouth. orange juice, a cigarette.

second branch. i throw some headphones on, and i'm walking down the street. sunshine. the blood feels like its pooled in my feet and hands, and i'm looking like one of those heavy-breathing speed walkers trying to use the art of centrifuge and sloshing blood. i do have a funky step going with the music, arctic monkeys, have they ever been down with drugs like this?

third branch. water. thirsty. grab my guitar and spit out a spontaneous song i now will call, "she runs like horses". she runs, she dips, lots of hair on her hips......she juggles, the waves, she's livin, in caves.....shes my oyster of circumstance, she doesn't judge, she doesn't dance...... she's feelin the forces....she's runnin like horses. no, its not pretty, but neither am i.

fourth branch. okay, i lied. i am pretty. but i feel like shit. i'm lying in bed at this stage, feelin a little pitiful, feeling a little sorry for myself. lets see, if i take 8 pills today, i could take two tomorrow, and hope that the 8 today would carry some smile tomorrow. i could then add the fourth day divided by the 8th day, and then have three on sunday......you see, the pill junk is a master of mathematics. but no, just keep the status quo. just keep it slow with no glow, billy.

fifth branch. harry potter reading. hermione, quite whining. i am going to go finish off the last little harry potter pages, where little harry potter running to and fro saves all of us from magical bigots and witches made of whiny selfish fleshy masses that smell of sin and forgotten clotheslines.

sixth branch. i forgot to mention i didn't sleep well. you see i had nightmares and hallucinations and butter encrusted french pastry pilgrimages to the kitchen. oh, the horra. lots of prayers again. sometimes i sleep without my face inside out . i wrote this poem on a magazine corner.
sometimes i sleep without my face inside out .
and i am sure that you little white pillies
swam with me in waters dark and full of sleepy fishes
and i drank wine tonight with friends
now sleeping at their lonely houses with their faces inside out

notice the reference to pillies. yes, pillies are pill friends, who over time turn into pill enemies who carve into your soul a tattoo of lucifer and his girlfriend Crampedbowel.

i am going to go sleep now, its some time before evening, maybe even before noon, i dont know. but i love you guys, and hope you are well.

turtlecolor